


Finding Faith

by mouservil



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dean Winchester Teaches Castiel to be Human, Guardian Angels, Heaven's Civil War, M/M, Sam's in law school
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-03-22 18:28:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 34,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13769988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mouservil/pseuds/mouservil
Summary: Dean Winchester had never been a praying man.Once, in all of his twenty-seven years of life, only once did he ever wish for celestial aid. That was back when he was sixteen. Back when he still had some sort of faith.Now, eleven years later, he's faced with the consequences of his prayer.





	1. Chapter 1

 

The house shifted against the wind, deflating onto the soil with a hefty sigh. It whined under the wear of the weather, successfully startling Dean Winchester into consciousness for the fourth time that night. Like the three times before it, when he opened his eyes, his bedroom was lit only by the dulled glow of streetlamps outside. His gaze shifted from the empty chair in front of his desk to the digital clock on his bedside table. Red numbers blared _05:_ _4_ _3_.

He flipped over on his back just as the wind howled again. It created the same horror movie sound effects that woke him up in the first place. This time Dean settled along with the house, sinking deep into the soft memory foam underneath him. Slowly, he allowed his eyes to fall shut.

For the fourth time that night, Dean was able to convince his brain to shut down and fall asleep. But for the first time that night, the floorboards just outside of his bedroom creaked, groaning under a heavy pressure. Shoe-clad feet scuffled down the stairs.

He urged his eyes back open to peer through the bedroom door. There were no lights shining up from downstairs. The house was smothered in darkness. Still and silent. He blinked once... twice... five times until deciding that there was no way he could keep his eyes open. They were stinging in his sockets; throbbing with every beat of his heart.

So Dean gave in. He shut his eyes and turned his back to the doorway, letting exhaustion take over from there. He figured that the noise had probably just been Sammy going out for his early morning run. The guy was a freak that way. And with that thought, he was able to lull himself into a sense of security.

All was calm for about twenty seconds.

Adrenaline threw Dean out of his bed, stuck a shotgun in his hand, and shoved him to the stairs, reminding him that _Sam_ _'s gone you idjit. Don't you remember him leaving for college just the other day?_ And he's too busy listening for movement downstairs to wonder why his adrenaline fueled conscience sounds a lot like his surrogate father, Bobby.

He wasn't sure how much time passed, but his skipping heart started to walk again and his breathing had evened itself out, and by then he was ninety-nine percent sure that he just missed his baby brother too much for his own good. Carefully, without making much noise or turning the light on, Dean crept down to the first floor. The wood was ice against the pads of his feet, and it was hard to avoid the squeak that went along with every other stair (the condominium itself is old), but he managed to keep it at a low volume. Even if he wanted to get down there as quickly as possible.

At the bottom of the steps, his toes sunk into carpeted floors. For a moment he stayed standing between the wall and staircase, gliding his eyes through the entirety of the bottom floor. It would be hard for anyone to hide down there; it was an open-concept area with little furniture and a half bathroom. Regardless, there was no way he was about to go back to bed when there was still potential for being murdered in his sleep.

With both hands clutching the gun, he searched the downstairs area three times. He checked the hall closet, kitchen/dining room, living room, behind the couch, behind the television, the bathroom, his tiny backyard... No one was there. He realized it couldn't have been someone in his house. There was no way they passed him and ran back up the stairs while he was still looking around. So then his mind jumped to _ghost_ , and for a few seconds he wondered if there were any other supernatural beings it could have been.

He stood there for a while, in the middle of the hallway with his back to the closet, and just thought about the hunting life. A part of him had been glad that he abandoned it for a normal lifestyle... A larger part of him almost missed the whole thing. It was a weird mixture of knowing that being a hunter was a miserable life choice, and not knowing what to do with himself otherwise.

Wind smacked the glass of his windows again, bringing him back into reality. He rubbed the heel of his palm against his eyes, trying to push the drowsiness out of them as he headed back for the stairs. He wiped his face and let his hand fall back to his side, climbing the steps.

The second story was just as dark and quiet as he'd left it. His body slacked as he trudged toward his room. He was physically drained but mentally alert, and all he really wanted to do was go back to bed. Although he doubted ten more minutes of sleep was going to do him much good.

He entered his bedroom, gun hanging loosely from his right hand. The unnatural lighting from outside illuminated bits and parts of his room. He looked toward the comfort of his mattress, only to have something catch his eye at the foot of his bed.

Black dress shoes, black slacks, tan trench coat...

In an instant, Dean lifted the gun to point at the shadowy figure of a man. This stranger – this _perpetrator_ – didn't even flinch at the sight of his weapon. He just stood there, unmoving.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean's voice was embarrassingly hoarse from sleep. He tried to sound intimidating nonetheless.

But the man wasn't perturbed by his attempted forcefulness. Instead of fidgeting or showing any signs of fear, this guy actually took a damn step toward him. Dean stepped back out of pure instinct.

"My name is Castiel," the man said.

From what he could see, Castiel's hair was a dark, lopsided mess on the top of his head. With the room unlit, his stubble looked thicker, more coarse than it actually was. The coat and suit he was wearing looked expensive, albeit wrinkled and unwashed, and his tie – the color of which he couldn't quite tell because of such dull lighting – was crooked. It only added to the disheveled look he had going on, which bordered between creepy and straight up hot.

"Well that solves everything," Dean said wryly. "Welcome to my humble abode, Castiel."

"Thank you."

Dean raised his eyebrows, his steady hold on the gun faltering while his arms dipped downward. "That was..." he trailed off, and then shook his head. His eyes narrowed, aiming the barrel back to the middle of Castiel's chest, his forefinger pointing forward rather than resting on the trigger. "All right, so what's Amelia Bedelia doing standing in the middle of my room like some creep?"

Castiel tilted his head. "My name is Castiel," he repeated.

"I get that. It's just a..." He lifted his gaze up to Castiel's face, and they make eye contact through the suddenly unwelcome, inky atmosphere of Dean's bedroom. "Never mind," he said. "Why'd you break into my house?"

Castiel squinted at him as if Dean were some newly discovered species that no one's ever seen before. "You really don't know why I'm here?"

"Sorry," Dean scoffed. "Did we have some sort of appointment? A meeting I wasn't aware of?"

"Yes." Castiel took another step forward.

Dean's finger came to rest on the trigger. "Whoa there, buddy," he said, tightening his grip. "Don't come any closer. In fact, why don't you get out 'fore I shoot you?"

Castiel froze, seemingly unsure of what he wanted to do. "We..." He narrowed his eyes, "have a long overdue meeting." Ducking his head slightly, Castiel didn't even glance over at the gun. "When you first prayed to me, nothing had been going right."

"Hold up – I didn't quite catch that." Dean threw mental daggers at the man through his glare. " _Prayed_?"

Castiel nodded his head, apparently unaware of the mix of confusion and hatred seeping through Dean's skin. "Eleven years ago you prayed for someone to help you with your younger brother." He looked away from him, scanning the rest of the room. After taking a moment to himself, he looked back at Dean. "I am here now to fulfill your wishes."

"Get the hell out of here," Dean said. "That never happened."

"Yes it did," he stated. "You were sixteen. It was just after your father went on another hunting trip."

Dean frowned, his glare losing a little of it's hostility. He looked more suspicious than angry by that point."How do you know about that?"

"I am an Angel of the Lord," he told him. "God sent me to help you. I apologize for coming so late."

Dean eyed Castiel with suspicion, looking him up and down before his gaze locked back onto his chest. Then he pulled the trigger, all the while listening to the little voice in the back of his head saying to s _hoot first and ask questions later._

ButCastiel was completely unharmed. The son of a bitch didn't even stumble backwards upon impact. He just stood there with his stupid furrowed eyebrows, staring at Dean with those stupidly intense eyes, taking a bullet through the chest as if it were a tap on the shoulder.

This _angel_ stepped closer to Dean, who replaced his gun with the Demon-Killing knife that sat idly at his desk. Castiel advanced on him, stopping the second that Dean plunged the knife into where his heart should have been.

Steadily, he moved his gaze from Dean's eyes down to the handle of the blade. He stared at it a moment, then reached his hand up and wiggled it out of his vessel. It dropped to the floor, and Castiel's eyes – which Dean could now tell were blue – connected with his own.

He stumbled back, having to catch himself on the door frame because this guy just pulled a knife out of his chest like he was peeling off a _fucking sticker_.

"What are you?"

Castiel narrowed his eyes. "I told you," he said. "I'm an Angel."

"There's no such thing."

Castiel lifted his chin, staring over at Dean with an unreadable expression. "This is your problem, Dean." He ducked his head back down, still watching him with an intensity that Dean didn't think he'd ever be able to forget. "You've lost all your faith."

A lump had formed in Dean's throat, and he forced it down, trying to get a hold of himself. "Well," he started out, pausing to wet his lips. "When it takes eleven freaking years for an angel to respond, tends to make a guy reconsider his beliefs." He clenched and relaxed his fists. Clench, relax. Clench, relax. He finally settled on crossing his arms over his chest.

"For that I apologize," Castiel said. He bowed his head, looking to the floor for something unseen. Then he raised his chin again – a little less condescending this time – to stare directly at Dean. "Heaven wasn't stable at the time of your prayer. But things have since calmed down, and I've been given the word to come down here. To help you, Dean."

He shook his head in disbelief. "Help me," he repeated, breathing out a short chuckle. Hesitantly, he uncrossed his arms to rub at his tired eyes, and then looked back at Castiel. "I don't need help," he said, shaking his hands for emphasis. "That was eleven years ago. I'm not even sure I really know what you're talking about when you said I _prayed_. That's – it's just weird." He ran his hands down his face. "And Sam's in law school now. So you can just go sprout your little wings and head on back to your golden cloud. Learn a couple new songs on your harp or something, alright? I don't need you."

Castiel didn't move. He just stood there, staring at Dean with unwavering eyes... It didn't even look like the guy was breathing. He resembled a wax sculpture.

One very long minute passed by before Dean raised his eyebrows. "Well?"

"I..." Castiel paused, taking a moment to just look into Dean's eyes again. He tightened his jaw then, somehow looking more confident than before. "I can't leave."

"What do you mean you can't leave?"

"Just as I said. "

"The door's downstairs. You have legs. Walk down there, open the door, and step out. I'll even escort you."

Castiel shook his head in defiance.

Dean rubbed his jaw, fingers gliding over the stubble on his own chin. He drew his eyebrows in, creating creases in his forehead. "What, is there some invisible force field around my house now?"

"Before I am allowed to leave your side," he said, "I must fulfill a wish of yours. I have failed to give you what you initially wanted, and now I must repay you."

This time it was Dean's turn to shake his head. He walked across the room, pushing past Castiel, to sit at the edge of his bed. His eyes flickered over to his clock. "I don't have any _wishes_ ," he stated, rubbing at his forehead.

"There must be something," the angel said. He turned to look down at Dean. "I wouldn't be here if you desired nothing."

Wearily, Dean looked up at him. "Dude, I'm not going to talk about this mushy kind of crap with you," he said. "So Daddy won't let you back home until you've done something useful, that's your problem. Buy him a 'Number 1 Dad' mug. Go talk it out with him. Hell, try and bribe him to get back into Heaven – I don't care. Just get out of my house."

"I _can't._ "

"Sure you can."

Castiel walked closer to the bed, stopping an inch away from Dean's sitting figure. Their eyes met.

"You don't understand," Castiel told him. "God has stepped down from his throne. He no longer claims authority over whether or not I am allowed back in Heaven unless I do as I was told."

Dean furrowed his eyebrows. "What the hell are you talkin' about?"

"Heaven..." Castiel closed his mouth, standing quiet for a moment. Then he closed his eyes and spoke again. "Heaven has been in a state of anarchy for a long while now." He looked back down to Dean.

"So, you have no idea where God is?"

Castiel nodded.

Dean narrowed his eyes, rising to his feet. Their noses almost bumped when he steadied himself. Dean opened his mouth, then closed it to lick his lips. "Dude..."

Castiel tilted his head. "Yes?"

"There's this thing that people do out of respect for others," he said, his eyes raking over Castiel's face. "They pretend that there's a bubble around someone, and they're not allowed to go through it, or even so much as touch it." Castiel squinted at him. Dean looked back to his eyes. "It's called personal space, and right now you're invading mine."

Castiel still looked confused. He stood there for a couple seconds longer, and then turned his eyes to the floor. "I understand." He stepped back a couple of paces, allowing him to breathe again.

It took Dean a moment to regain his composure, but then he crossed his arms over his chest and let out a heavy sigh. "Alright," he said, "how do you know that God is... Well, still alive?"

Castiel raised his eyes. "Trust me," he said. "If He ceased to exist, we'd all know."

"Right," Dean scoffed. "What was I thinking?"

"You don't believe in God."

A very sudden noise interrupted Dean just as he was about to respond. Instruments clashed about, and words strung together to create the chorus of _'Walk This Way.'_ For a moment, Dean just stood there. He just watched Castiel watch him until he couldn't take it anymore. He momentarily shut his eyes, drawing in a deep breath. When he opened them again, Castiel had tilted his head and narrowed his eyes.

"You do not like this band," Castiel stated.

Dean furrowed his eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

"Or is it just this song in particular you are not fond of?"

He uncrossed his arms, giving Castiel an odd look before going over to the radio to shut it off. "They're no Zeppelin..." he said in a slow, careful voice. "But they're okay." He turned to back to him, narrowing his eyes. "You could tell that by watching me stand there?"

"Well, I've noted that humans tend to show their thoughts through body language," Castiel explained. Dean pointedly raised his eyebrows. Castiel pressed his lips into a thin line, watching him a moment. "I am also able to discern what it is that you're thinking," he admitted.

"Should've seen that one coming," Dean muttered, walking over to his closet. He grabbed his Biggerson's T-shirt off the hanger, picking up a pair of jeans that he had left on the floor the other day. All the while he could feel Castiel's eyes on him. "Man," he said, turning to him, "get outta here."

Castiel frowned. "I have nowhere to go."

The clothes in Dean's hands wrinkled and twisted under his clenched fists. He had been, for the most part, content with the life he lived beforehand. Giving up the hunt was never easy; certain things follow you until after your death, haunting you until the moment you completely fade away. But Dean had managed it. Right up until the point it pushed itself into his life again.

Dean turned away from him. What could he say that would make this guy leave already? Nothing, as far as he could come up with.

Castiel followed Dean out of his bedroom, into the dark hallway. He stepped into the bathroom. Castiel was standing under the door frame when he turned around to shut it. He raised his eyebrows at the angel, who responded by taking a step back.

Unable to resist the urge to roll his eyes, Dean slammed the door and turned the lock.

Castiel listened to the squeak of the shower knob turning. He listened to the water thud against tile and human flesh, tumbling down by the handful. He stood there as the sound of flying water droplets ceased and heard the scratch of metal against metal as Dean ripped the towel from the curtain rail and then pushed the curtains aside. He heard rustling, shifting, and then the faucet being turned on.

After Dean had finished brushing his teeth, he felt more prepared than anything. Refreshed was what he wanted to feel, but not exactly what he got. He turned to the door, inhaling deeply, and unlocked it.

Sure enough, when he pulled it open, Castiel was standing exactly where he had left him. The guy probably hadn't even moved a centimeter. Dean raised his eyebrows at him, causing the angel to reluctantly step aside. He pushed past him and headed for the staircase.

On the first floor he nearly bumped into the angel, who seemed to materialize from thin air. So he could read minds _and_ teleport. Fan-freaking-tastic.

Dean had to take a step back to get away from their uncomfortable proximity. He huffed at him. _"Dude."_

"Where are you going?"

Narrowing his eyes, Dean walked around him. He paused at the dining room table to grab his phone, wallet, and keys. "To work," he said as he slipped them into his pocket.

"I'll go with you," Castiel suggested, stepping up to him.

"No." Dean faced Castiel, who had stopped immediately after hearing Dean's voice. He shook his head, pointing at the angel. "You are not coming to work with me." Then he made a vague gesture towards Castiel's attire. "Especially not in your torn up suit!"

Castiel looked down at himself. "I can fix that."

"What?" Dean blinked and suddenly the outfit was free of any bullet wounds or blade tears. He shook his head. "The answer's still no."

"What do you suppose I do then?"

"I don't know, man – maybe you could try going home?" He grabbed the pair of socks and shoes that stood by the front door. He sat down on the couch to pull them on.

Castiel frowned. He followed him into the living room and stood stiff by the sofa. "I can't leave until I've-"

"Granted my wish. Yeah, I got that, Genie." Dean looked up while tying his shoes. "So, what if my wish now is to get rid of you?" He stood up. "Oh well, sounds like you need to leave. And so do I. Nice meeting you, hope to see you soon."

"No you don't."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Goodbye, Castiel."

The door whacked shut on his way out.


	2. Chapter 2

Half of the sky had been trapped behind clouds by the time Dean was allowed a lunch break. He stood behind the building, biting into his protein bar a few yards away from the dumpster. He tried not to think too much about the rotten smell crawling towards him. Spoiled milk and putrid meat made the cool air seem almost muggy.

After having choked down the rest of his bar, he brought his phone out of his pocket and pressed the number two on speed dial. As he put the speaker up to his ear, he scanned the parking lot that faced him.

It took four rings for the line to pick up. The man on the other side was unmistakably Bobby, answering with a, "What the hell did you get yourself into this time, boy?"

"What, a guy can't phone someone without needing something?" Dean scoffed.

"Oh, you better need something," Bobby told him. "And it better damn well be important."

Dean rolled his eyes. He walked forward a few paces and looked both ways, making sure that the lot really was as empty as it looked. After stepping back under the shade of the protruding roof, he sighed. "Alright, this'll probably sound a little crazy..." He lowered his voice. "Do you know anything about angels?"

Bobby didn't say anything for a moment. The only way he really knew that they were still connected had been the shuffling he could hear. "You gotta be kiddin' me," he finally said. " _Angels_? Those things with wings and halos and white robes?"

"Yeah, Bobby. Those things."

"As far as I know, they don't exist."

Dean closed his eyes. "Yeah, well," he said. " I met one of them this morning. Name's Castiel."

"How in God's name did you meet an angel?"

He brought the heel of his palm up to his eyes, rubbing at them until they hurt. "It's kind of a long story." He ran his hand down the rest of his face.

"Are you sure he's an angel?"

"No. Far as I'm concerned, angels are just fairy tales, but I can't think of anything else he could be." He stuffed his hand into his pocket, pausing. "He claims he can't get back into Heaven until he grants me some sort of wish."

"So, what, we're in a Disney movie now?" Bobby scoffed. "Why the hell would an angel want to grant somebody's wish?"

"Beats me. I just need a way to get rid of him." Dean gently hit the back of his head against the wall behind him, his eyes trailing to the gray clouds above. "Do you think you could look some things up for me? Maybe figure out if there's anything else he could be."

"I don't know how much I have written about angels, if anything. Before now I thought it was all folklore," said Bobby.

"C'mon, Bobby."

"I'll see if I can find anything," he grumbled. "Might take a while. I'll call you if something comes up."

"Thanks."

Dean hung up the phone, putting it into his pocket and letting both of his hands rest there. He watched the clouds pass by. Then, figuring that his boss wasn't going to be too happy with how long he was taking, Dean pushed himself off of the wall and went back inside.

⛥⛥⛥⛥⛥

Relief had flooded through Dean at the sight of his house. The feeling of finally being home after serving a multitude of ungrateful customers was enough to get him speeding down the road. He pulled into the driveway and shut off his Baby's engine.

Standing at the threshold, the sun was leveled at such an angle that it melted into his back, hugging him around his torso. He worked the door open, and just as his eyes landed on Castiel, the heat evaporated any remaining drop of relief.

The angel had pulled out one of the dining room chairs and positioned it so that it was facing the doorway. They made eye contact as Dean entered the building. After the door clicked shut behind him, Castiel rose to his feet. Strangely, he didn't say a word to him. Only stared on as Dean walked into the kitchen. It was almost too good to be true.

"Have you thought about your wish yet?"

Scratch that. It _was_ too good to be true.

Dean glared at him, then turned his attention away. He tugged the refrigerator door open and peered inside. The light that poured out illuminated his set jawline, highlighting his tense expression. He reached in to grab the plate of leftover spaghetti sitting snug under the tight layer of plastic wrap. "I told you already."

Castiel frowned. "I'm afraid coveting my absence is not validated under these circumstances."

"I want you gone," Dean said. He set the plate on the counter to unwrap it. "How is that not valid?" He placed it into the microwave. It beeped to life with the press of a button, a soft hum and glow emitting off it.

"Because it is not something that you truly desire."

Turning back to him, Dean saw Castiel standing, as rigid and still as he always seemed to do, right beside the fridge. Dean lifted his arms to dig his palms into the counter behind him. "And you'd know all about that," he retorted.

All Castiel did was nod.

Dean raised his eyebrows at this, his expression going from mildly shocked to ticked off as he glared at him again. "Alright," he said. "Then what _do_ I want?"

The angel didn't even seem to notice the piercing eyes. He just continued on as if Dean was being one hundred percent serious. "I don't know that," he responded.

"Look," Dean started, pushing himself away from the counter. He lifted his hands up to animate his speech. "I don't understand how this telephone line between you and the big boss works, but tell him I'm a lost cause."

Castiel's eyes flickered to his arms, pausing there as if interested by the callouses on Dean's hands. He took a steadying breath and slowly lifted his eyes back to his face. "I don't have direct communication with Him."

"Then how'd you know I even prayed in the first place?"

"I just know," he stated. "It's a difficult concept to explain, and even more difficult for a human to understand."

Dean huffed. "Well ain't that just peachy?"

Castiel bowed his head. "I'm sorry, Dean. Until your true desire has been fulfilled, I am unable to leave. It must be something equally as sought after and intense as the original."

When Castiel looked back up, Dean was smiling at him. But it wasn't a happy smile, not in the slightest. It felt sour to both parties.

"Great. Just... Great." He walked across the small kitchen floor toward Castiel, who was careful to avoid being too close with Dean and promptly stepped out of his way. He opened the refrigerator door, bending over to snatch a cold one from the shelf. He lifted it up. "Beer?"

Castiel squinted at it. "No..." he trailed off. "I don't drink."

"Alright, suit yourself." He straightened up. "What about water?"

"I don't drink anything."

Dean swung the door closed, moving to stand by the microwave again. "You smoke?"

"No."

"Don't drink, don't smoke," he said, forcing a smile. "What _do_ you do?"

He positioned the bottle at an angle against the edge of the countertop, then smacked his palm against the cap. It flew right off, falling to the floor with several tings before settling. He brought the bottle up to his lips, tipping the bottom up to take a generous sip.

Castiel frowned. "I do a lot of things."

"Yeah, like what?"

He was given a serious look in response; frown, squint, head tilt – the whole shebang – but no verbal answer.

"Classified angel stuff, huh?"

Castiel pressed his lips into a thin line, catching Dean's eyes with his own.. They looked to one another in silence. The angel looked as though that moment had been the first time he really stood within Dean's presence.

Dean didn't like the quiet. At least not under Castiel's scrutiny. He tried to think of something to say – something that could break this whole scene. Luckily the microwave did that job for him, or else he'd probably end up standing there like a fish for the rest of the night.

He took the plate out, lifting it up just as he did with the beer. "Spaghetti?"

"I don't eat."

The corner of Dean's lips tugged upward in a half grin. "Of course you don't."

He took his dinner to the dining room table and set it down, trying to ignore Castiel even as he followed him. Settling himself onto the chair, Dean avoided any sort of eye contact with the angel. He concentrated on his food instead. Leftover noodles always had an odd aftertaste, but he'd eaten it enough times to have been used to it by now.

What he wasn't used to was a guy he'd just met under twenty-four hours beforehand to be standing so close to his chair. Dean only survived a few bites until he lifted his gaze to meet with Castiel's.

"Dude, this is seriously creepy. Sit down."

For a minute, Dean didn't think Castiel was actually going to listen to him. He just stood there, motionless, staring at him. The guy was like some freaky mannequin. Hell, he'd probably be able to make some good money off of acting as a living statue.

But then he walked to the other side of the table and sat down.

Dean took another bite, still trying to avoid looking at him too long. When he glanced back up, Castiel's eyes were right there waiting for him. He dropped his fork onto the plate and leaned in over the table a little bit, his elbows digging into the wood beneath them. "You sure you don't want somethin' to eat? At least pretend that you need it or whatever, so you aren't staring at me like that?"

"I'm afraid it would be a waste of food," Castiel said. "I don't enjoy the taste of starch..." He glanced down at the spaghetti. "Or anything, really."

Dean raised his eyebrows, then rubbed his hand over his eyes. He took a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose before letting his hand fall back to the table.

"Okay," he said. He pushed his chair back and stood up, taking the plate with him.

The angel frowned at the man across the table and tilted his head, squinting at him. "Where are you going?"

"I lost my appetite."

Castiel watched him walk into the kitchen. He watched him cover the remains in a plastic wrap and set it back in the refrigerator. Then he watched him walk out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Castiel listened to him walking around up there, his eyes locked on the staircase.

It took a few minutes, but Dean eventually came back. Piled in his arms were two neatly folded blankets and three white pillows. He passed by with them, walking down the hallway and entering the living room. Castiel stood up to watch him throw everything on the couch. Dean took the first pillow, grabbing the ends and pushing it into itself multiple times. He repeated this with the rest of the pillows, setting them at one end of the couch and smacking them for good measure.

"What are you doing?"

Dean didn't have to turn around to know that Castiel was standing right behind him, looking over his shoulder. Probably with that same curious expression, with those furrowed eyebrows and narrowed eyes.

"What does it look like I'm doing, Cas?" Dean unfolded the first blanket and shook it out. He set it on the couch and picked up the other blanket. "If you're staying here for however long, there's no way in Hell you're sleeping in Sammy's old room."

"That's..." Castiel inhaled, pausing before letting the breath go. "Very nice of you." He nodded his head just as Dean turned to look at him. "But you should know that I don't sleep."

Their eyes met, and as always Castiel hadn't even blinked the entire time they were looking at each other. Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. In retrospect, he should have realized sooner that this guy didn't need sleep. He didn't need to eat or drink water, so why would Dean think he needed sleep? He fluffed this man's goddamn pillows for nothing.

Reopening his eyes, Dean crossed his arms over his chest. "Okay, what are you going to do all night then?"

"Don't worry. I'll watch over you"

That response had shocked a short, breathy chuckle right out of Dean. He raised his eyebrows, uncrossing his arms to point at the angel. "That's not going to happen."

Castiel's eyes narrowed. "You don't trust me," he concluded.

"Not even a little bit," Dean said. "Besides that, watching someone while they sleep is just straight up creepy."

"Then I will stay down here if you wish me to."

They're staring at each other with the same amount of intensity, both too stubborn to be the first to look away. Dean wanted to say that what he really wished for was for this guy – this ethereal being – to leave his goddamn house so he never has to deal with this supernatural crap ever again. But he's already tried that and it hasn't gotten him anywhere before, so there wasn't a chance that him repeatedly complaining would change anything.

And maybe a part of him actually missed being out there in the hunt... Maybe a part of him missed being a hero.

Dean tried to calm himself down with another deep breath. "Good." He nodded his head. "It's settled then. You stay down here, _not_ watching me sleep, and I'll go upstairs and sleep, _not_ having someone watch me."

Castiel squinted his eyes in return, slowly nodding, but not breaking their stare.

Silence corrupted the room after that. Neither of them moved. They were both just watching each other, waiting for the other to do something.

Dean ended up being the first to look away. "Alright."

Just knowing that Castiel was watching him walk away was enough for him to actually feel it. Those blue eyes were like weights glued to his shoulders and backside, bringing him down, making it harder for him to take each step up to the second floor.

He managed, and once he finally got to his own room, he sunk deep into his mattress.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean frowned at the nearly empty box of cereal. He poured the remains into a bowl, setting it on the counter to throw away later. He raised his eyebrows at the tiny breakfast. There was probably less than a half a cup in there, which wasn't nearly enough for him. He cursed his past self for leaving so little and reached for the handle on the refrigerator. The sound of it opening had been the loudest thing he heard all morning.

He furrowed his eyebrows, casually glancing up to sweep his gaze across the rest of the downstairs area. When he woke up, he had been determined to completely ignore the angel. To not even look at him. That was the plan, anyway. But he couldn't really ignore him if he wasn't even there.

A spark of hope lit up in his chest. Dean quietly shut the refrigerator door and pulled his arm away, inspecting what he could see of the living room. Slowly, he walked out of the kitchen. His eyes flicked to the sliding glass door that lead out into his minuscule backyard. There wasn't anything out there that hadn't been there the last time he looked outside. Carefully, he crossed beyond the entryway and into the room.

The hope that had caught aflame died out when he spotted the couch. Dark hair peeked out from under the blankets. Castiel had situated himself on the couch, laying on his back with his head propped against the pillows and the blanket pulled all the way up to his forehead.

Dean was gaping at the lump on his couch. He really hadn't expected the angel to have actually decided to use his makeshift bed. It took him several seconds to even find out where his voice went, and another few seconds to actually say anything.

"What... The hell?" was all his brain supplied.

Castiel didn't respond at first. The blankets dipped and curved with every move of his shoulders, the shifting sound being the only noise for a moment.

"You went through the trouble of making a suitable place for me to sleep," the covers told him. "I understand that it's only polite to accept the kind gesture."

Dean furrowed his eyebrows, staring over at the couch. "Dude," he started, crossing his arms over his chest, "get out of there."

For Dean, it felt like hours until the covers lifted and fell onto Castiel's lap. One of his hands had splayed across the fabric, then curled inward to grip a fistful of polyester. He really did look as though he just woke up, with the messy hair and tired eyes, but Dean wasn't going to let appearances render his actions after everything that had happened the day before.

Castiel moved so that both of his feet, which were still protected by a pair of dress shoes, landed flat on the floor. "I was under the impression that this was the appropriate thing to do. I did as you asked and stayed down here the entire night," he said.

To be fair, it wasn't the worst thing that could have happened last night. It was a little weird, but Dean considered it a plus that he hadn't watched him as he slept. So he decided to let the angel off the hook for this one.

"Right, Cas. Thanks."

Dean wiped a hand down the entirety of his face, moving it to the nape of his neck. He turned away from Castiel, rubbing the knots out of his shoulder. His arm fell back to his side and he rolled his shoulders as he entered the kitchen, pausing only to glance over at Castiel in the other room. He watched, a little too closely, as the angel stood up and neatly spread the blanket back to rest on the couch. Dean furrowed his eyebrows at the sight of Castiel leaning down to awkwardly pat the fabric. As if it had _feelings_. And when Castiel turned to face him, he quickly averted his gaze and poured himself a bowl of cereal.

He grabbed a spoon and took his breakfast to the dining room table where Castiel had already seated himself.

Dean, like any normal person, didn't stare down the guy in front of him. He just started eating, one spoonful at a time, letting his eyes pass over anything as long as they didn't venture across the table.

But Castiel wasn't a normal person. In fact, he wasn't really a person at all. Dean could see out of his peripheral that the damn angel was watching him throughout his entire breakfast. He stiffened a little in his seat, trying to ignore that unnerving stare. Seriously, those blue eyes were like vacuums that sucked up every one of his bad life choices just to judge them.

Dean swallowed the last spoonful, moving his eyes to meet with Castiel's. He let the spoon hit against the bowl and fall into place. "Cas..." He leaned over the table to get a better look at him. "Do you always look at people like you can't comprehend them?"

Lifting up his chin, Castiel leaned into the back of his chair. "I did not know that was how I looked," he said. "I was simply examining your behavioral patterns."

"Well you should probably limit your observations, buddy. It's a little uncomfortable."

Castiel didn't respond.

Their eyes stayed connected for a moment, until Dean decided it was time to put his dishes into the sink. He got up with the bowl in his hands, still looking at Castiel whose eyes followed his every movement. Taking a deep breath, Dean turned away and walked into the kitchen. He set the bowl down and glanced at his wristwatch.

"Damn it," he muttered.

Quickly, he moved back into the dining room and snatched his keys off the table. Castiel stood up, probably to be able to watch him even more closely like the creepy angel he was. Dean tried to ignore those ridiculous eyes, even as he turned to look at him.

"I gotta head off to work," he said, "and when I get home you're not going to be here." As if repeating it would actually turn his dream into a reality. His eyes flick back to his watch.

"You're late."

When Dean looked back up he realized that Castiel is no longer staring at his face, but has lowered his gaze to Dean's work shirt.

"What was your first clue?" he asked, glancing up at the ceiling in disbelief. He rubbed a hand over his face, sighing, before looking back to Castiel. "Can you at least try to..." his voice trailed away from him when Castiel lifted his arm. Dean had no idea how to react to an angel gripping his shoulder, but he finally settled with a, "What are you doing?"

He didn't get a response.

Instead, white flashed before Dean's eyes, so vibrant that it pierced straight through his now closed eyelids. The brightness stung, and it somehow traveled through his optic nerves to wedge itself between the lines of his brain, burrowing deep into the organ to expand it from the inside out. His head throbbed, his skull ready to crack from the inflation. Sudden scenes of brain soup spilling out of his head filled his imagery.

His stomach started flipping upside down and shaking from side to side, though whether this had happened because of the spinning white room he appeared to be in or from the unsettling thought of his head exploding he didn't know. All he knew was that none of his internal organs wanted to be there in that moment. Everything inside of him felt like it was moving around, like a giant worm was squirming around in there, gnawing through his gut and moving everything out of place.

An unexpected whip of air smacked him across the face. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, panicking when the ground below him disappears. The only thing keeping him from falling into whatever the hell was under him now was Castiel's firm hold on his shoulder.

Then, suddenly, the wind isn't bitch slapping him anymore. He still can't feel anything under him but the lack of a glaring white light gave him enough courage to actually open his eyes. The first thing he saw was Castiel standing in front of him, watching him with a blank expression. It was the only thing that he could see clearly. Everything else around them were swirls of beige and silver that blended together to form blurred outlines of where they were. He blinked a few times, waiting for the ability to actually see to come back to him.

After he was able to actually recognize where they were, a spoiled smell pushed its way into his nostrils and died there. If he wasn't sure where they had landed before, he sure as hell knew where they were now. That smell was something that he couldn't scrub out no matter how much time and effort he'd put into it.

Then, finally, there was solid ground under him again.

Dean was beyond dizzy. He couldn't seem to remember how to stand properly and ended up stumbling backwards into the side of a urinal. One of his arms reached up to catch himself with the wall. The room hadn't stopped spinning by that point, everything was swaying like he was on a boat in the middle of a really bad storm. Black and white dots blurred the corners of his vision. He closed his eyes again, taking several deep breaths to calm himself down a little bit. When he opened them, everything was back to normal.

They were in Biggerson's diner, inside of the single male restroom.

Pushing away from the wall, Dean attempted to steady himself. It took a couple of tries for him to stop wobbling on his own two feet. He pointed an accusatory finger at Castiel, taking in another deep breath and exhaling his next sentence. "Don't ever do that again."

The angel frowned. "I thought I was being helpful."

Dean moved his hand to rest on his stomach. His head still pounded, less violently than before, and stomach still churned. "I feel like I'm going to throw up," he said after a moment.

"I apologize," Castiel said. "I forgot that it can be a little destabilizing for humans."

"A little?"

Castiel's frown deepened. He opened his mouth to respond when the door to the bathroom flung open. Both men turned to the entrance. A young man sporting a Biggerson's T-shirt had been about to walk into the room, only to pause mid-step. Slowly, the man took his leg back to stand poised on both feet.

"Uh..." the man licked his lips, eyes darting between the two. "Sorry. I, I didn't know you two were in here."

"Dude, no. It's not what you think," Dean told him. "This is my roommate," he paused, glancing at Castiel. "Steve."

"Oh..." The worker said, hand tightening around the doorknob. "Oh. Roommates, yeah. Right." He cleared his throat. "I'll leave you and your roommate to it then." He started to close the door.

"No, man, it's not like that!" Dean hurried over to the door, catching it before it shut all the way. He opened it further to look at his coworker. "He was just telling me how it was out of toilet paper, that's all." He peered over his shoulder at Castiel. "Right, Steve?"

Castiel squinted at Dean, taking in his desperate facial expression. Then he looked back to the other man, tilting his head in the process. Dean clenched his jaw, something that the angel must have seen from his peripheral, because he slowly nodded.

"Yes. There was a lack of toiletries in this restroom."

Dean relaxed, turning back to his coworker. "Yeah, and I just restocked it so you're free to go in." Quickly he shouldered his way through the door, walking out into the rest of the diner. Luckily no one had been watching. He turned around to talk to Castiel, only to realize that he hadn't moved. "Steve!"

For a moment longer, all Castiel did was stare at Dean's coworker. Then, very slowly, he walked out to stand by Dean. The guy awkwardly walked inside after the angel had left the room, quickly shutting and locking the door behind him.

"Jeez, Cas. You in love with the guy or do you just stare that intently at everyone?" Dean asked, turning to him. The only response that he got, though, was Castiel's squinting eyes. He licked his lips, then nodded his head, looking away from him. "Right."

"My name isn't Steve," Castiel stated. "Why would you lie to that man?"

Dean looked back at him. "Because down here, Castiel isn't a common name. At all. It's not even an actual name. Now come on, let's sit you down and make you a burger or something."

Dean turned his back to Castiel, stepping further into the diner. He stopped behind the counter, motioning for the angel to sit at one of the empty stools across from him. Castiel sat down very gingerly on the seat directly in front of Dean.

"You know I don't eat."

"Just try it out. Who knows, you might even like it. Besides, it's on the house."

Castiel frowned at him as a woman walked up to them. She stopped next to the angel, leaning over the counter. Castiel furrowed his eyebrows, squinting at her curly hair.

"Dean, table four," she said. She pushed herself away from the counter and walked behind it into the kitchen.

"I'll have Kiki make you that burger so you don't have to wait too long." Dean winked, ignoring the still unconvinced look on Castiel's face. He grabbed an apron from under the counter and tied it around his waist, then reached for a pen and notepad. "One cheeseburger!" he shouted to a lady in the kitchen.

Castiel watched him from his stool as he turned back around. He watched him walk over to a table by the door where two women sat. When Dean glanced back over to Castiel, though, he had already turned back to stare at the counter surface. Dean went back to work, going from the kitchen to tables, back to the kitchen.

"One cheeseburger!" Kiki called out, tapping a service bell on the opening wall.

Dean brought the burger to Castiel, sliding it across the counter to him. He waited there, watching as Castiel stared at it. Then, as if deciding that he could trust the food, he picked it up and took a tentative bite. He chewed slowly.

"So, how is it?"

Castiel lowered his arms, setting the burger back down on the plate. He took a moment to himself, swallowing the substance down. "It tastes like molecules."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "You're telling me you didn't get any flavor in that?"

"No." Castiel picked it up again, less reluctant to take another bite this time. Dean rolled his eyes.

⛥⛥⛥⛥⛥

Untying his apron, Dean looked up at all the customers. There were still so many people going in and out, which wasn't something he was complaining about by any means. That's not to say he wasn't glad his shift was finally over, though. He threw the apron under the counter, then stretched his back out. His eyes spotted Castiel, who had changed his seating arrangement from the bar stools to a booth. The angel was staring out the window, watching people walk by with an oddly tranquil expression. Dean smiled, walking over to him.

"Time to go," he said.

Castiel's eyes lingered on the people outside. It wasn't until after they'd disappeared around the corner that the angel finally looked up at Dean. He stood up and reached out to place his hand on Dean's shoulder.

Quickly, Dean dodged away from the movement. "Dude, no."

Castiel stared at him, his face scrunched in confusion.

"You're never doing that again, you hear me? We're walking back tonight." Then, without too much thought, he reached up and took Castiel by the elbow to guide him outside. It still felt weird, being so close to an angel of all things, so he let go as soon as they pushed through the doors. The sun peered through silhouetted trees, skimming the tops of their heads in the cool evening.

"We'd get back a great deal faster if you'd just let me do this," Castiel said.

"Okay, for one," Dean lifted his index finger, "the next time you use your stupid angel mojo on me, I'm probably going to die."

"Dean, you should know that I would never do anything to harm you."

Dean rolled his eyes, stuffing both hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Right."

"You still don't trust me."

"No, I don't." Dean looked away from him. "And think about what would happen if people saw us poof outta here."

"I can wipe away their memories."

"What about security cameras, huh?"

"I can cut those."

Dean shook his head. "Look, either way, I don't want to relive that."

"If you say so, Dean."

"Thank you." The two of them walk in silence for a block, Dean being a little lost in thought for a while. Then it hit him, and he turned to look over to the angel. "If you can just teleport everywhere, then why can't you get back home?"

Furrowing his eyebrows, Castiel looked back at him. "I thought that was what we were doing..." he said, squinting. Then his facial expression relaxed into that of understanding. "If you'd rather me be there to welcome you I'd be happy to fly home before you arrive."

"Oh, no. No way. You are not allowed to start thinking of my place as your home. You've been there for one night, Cas. I'm talking about Paradise City," Dean said. "What's really stopping you from just zapping back there?"

"Oh." Castiel lifted his head to stare up at the dwindling sky. "Heaven." Closing his eyes for a brief moment, the angel let out a small sigh. Then he turned his gaze back to Dean. "I'm locked out. I can't return until I've done my job. If I tried to fly back in, I'd be pushed down to Earth." He looked upward. "Not all shooting stars are space debris. There are others. Angels that have fallen from the heavens. Those who have wronged their kind, or have tried to go beyond the gates without being welcomed."

Dean stared at him, wanting to ask what happened to those angels. Did they die upon impact or while they were burning in the atmosphere? Did they get their wings clipped, too? Or lose all of their previous powers? Whatever the hell kind of powers they had to begin with – Dean still wasn't sure exactly what these angels were capable of. He opened his mouth with the intention of vocalizing all these thoughts but was interrupted by his phone going off. Which was a little weird because no one ever really called him.

Still watching Castiel, Dean took the phone out of his pocket and glanced at the collar ID. He looked back up, making eye contact with the angel.

"Sorry, Cas... Gotta take this."

The angel only nodded in return, watching Dean answer the phone.

"Sammy!" Dean greeted, looking away from those blue freaking eyes.

"Hey, Dean."

The sound of his little brother's voice struck a smile on him, and he didn't even try to mask it. Besides, Castiel wasn't even looking at him anymore.

"How's law school treatin' ya?" he asked.

"It's good. I really like it." Sam took a pause, letting a short silence overtake their conversation. "I actually just called to see how you were doing."

"Me? I'm great."

They stopped at a crosswalk and Dean pressed the button twice out of pure habit.

"Good. That's, that's good," Sam said, just as the crosswalk turned on. He paused and then hesitantly asked, "Are you outside?"

"Yeah," Dean said. "I'm walking home from work right now."

"Did something happen to the car?"

"No way, Sam. You think I'd actually let anything happen to her?"

"Well..."

"Shut up, I always fix my Baby."

"Right. Then why didn't you drive it?"

Unwillingly, almost as if it were natural, Dean looked at Castiel. By now, the darker stages of twilight had set in, and he couldn't very well see what the guy was staring at, but he thought he saw movement. Then it moved further into view, and Dean could see that it was a crow searching for food. Dean shifted his gaze away.

"You're the one always telling me I need to get more exercise," he said. "All that 'walking is good for the soul' hippie kind of crap."

"Walking _is_ good for you, Dean," Sam told him.

"Getting laid takes less effort than walking, _and_ it's a full body workout."

A sigh escaped from the other line. He could hear Sam shift around wherever the hell he was. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Fine and dandy," Dean said. "Just felt like walkin', Sam, that's all."

Beside him, Castiel turned to give him an inquisitive stare. Dean raised his eyebrows.

"Right..." Sam trailed off. "Because, you know, if anything's bothering you, you can always call me."

"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind when it's my turn to bring the crumpets for tea time," he said. "You know I always forget the damn crumpets. I'll probably start crying. Think you can handle that?"

"Okay." Sam cleared his throat. "Bye, Dean."

"What? Don't leave me," Dean said. "I'm going to go crazy without you. I'll have nobody to talk my precious feelings out-" the line dropped "-with." He took the phone away from his ear, squinting down at the screen. "Can you believe my own baby brother hung up on me?" He shoved it back into his pocket, shaking his head.

Castiel narrowed his eyes. "Why did you lie to him?"

"It wasn't really a lie," Dean informed him. "More of a fib."

They stepped up onto Dean's porch, both shrouded in an eerie darkness. Castiel glared at him, those sharp blue eyes piercing into his freaking soul again. Jesus, how many times has this guy stared at him like he was on a display in some damn museum? He looked down to his feet to get away from that gaze, reaching into his back pocket and taking out the set of keys. He fumbled with him before unlocking the door.

"Look, Sam is just getting his life back together." He stepped inside, leaving the door open for Castiel and running a hand through his hair. "A few months ago we were both saving people, hunting things..." He stopped by the dining room table, throwing his keys down and looking back to the angel, who had shut and locked the front door behind him. "The family business. But things got a little messy." He leaned against the table. "We got really close to getting caught for credit card fraud not too long ago, and that's when Sam decided that we shouldn't take so many risks. So I got a job at Biggerson's , he started cashiering at the grocery store down the street, and we eventually got enough to rent this place out with our own money."

"I see..." Castiel watched Dean push himself away from the table and enter the kitchen.

"He doesn't need to get back into this. He just got into law school," Dean said, rummaging through the fridge. He reached in, took out a beer, and slammed the door shut.

As Dean moved further into the kitchen, Castiel stopped next to the refrigerator. "Then maybe it is best he doesn't know of my existence," he said.

"Right." Dean used the counter top as a bottle opener, smacking the cap right off with a very satisfying 'POP!' He grabbed hold of it, throwing the metal top into the trash can under the sink, and then took a quick sip. "Now," he said, pointing the mouth of the bottle at Castiel, "have you ever seen Dr. Sexy, M.D.?"

"What is that?"

Dean grinned, taking another swig before responding with, "You are never going to follow me to work after starting this show."

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

The sun was just beginning to set. Wisps of warm orange and red had started to lick at the clouds, tainting the light blue of the sky. Dean walked into the house, whistling the beginning of Led Zeppelin’s _Ramble On_. Inside, Castiel looked as though he hadn’t moved from his spot since they started watching Dr. Sexy the night before. The screen being the only thing that lit the interior, with the shades all drawn and everything, Dean’s first thought was how much of a hermit the guy looked. 

He entered into the hallway, heading straight for the kitchen to grab a beer. Quickly hitting the cap free from the glass bottle, making sure to throw the cap away, he joined Castiel on the couch just as two of the side characters started to get busy in the janitor’s closet. He took a long drink, ignoring the shifting from beside him. 

As the scene unraveled, the character’s clothes came off, and it started to get pretty heated. The shifting increased, so Dean risked a fleeting glance Castiel’s way. 

It took him a minute to understand what just happened.

“Dude, it’s not even porn,” Dean stressed. “How do you pop a boner just watching two people take their pants off?”

Slowly, Castiel looked to his lap. “I, I don’t understand,” he said. “Angels don’t feel pleasure the same way humans do. I shouldn’t be reacting like this.”

“Jesus, Cas, go take care of it or something.” Dean scrunched up his nose, looking away. He shook his head. “Two men don’t just sit next to each other with boners.”

“There is nothing wrong with the way the human body works, Dean.”

“It’s uncomfortable.”

“It’s nature.”

Dean looked back to the angel, his green eyes meeting Castiel’s blue ones. “Call it whatever you want, man, it’s gross.” 

At first, Castiel didn’t say anything. He just looked at him with that weird intensity that made Dean tense up even more. 

“Do you have a problem with my vessel’s appearance?”

Dean looked away, taking the time to down a few large gulps of beer. “No.” His voice came out breathy, which was humiliating in itself, but even worse now that Dean could feel his own body react. He glanced over at Castiel, who was still looking at him. “It has nothing to do with your damn meat suit and has everything to do with the fact that we’re both dudes.”

“Dean.” Castiel tilted his head, and damn if that didn’t make matters worse. “Angels do not have genders,” he said. “We are spiritual beings with no real physical body. I myself am just a wavelength of celestial intent, despite you being able to physically touch me.” Slowly, warily, he reached out to place a hand on Dean’s arm. Dean sucked in a breath, but did not flinch away from the contact. “To angels, gender is not a deciding factor in choosing our partners.”

And hell, if that wasn’t some weird ass angel pickup line then Dean didn’t know what was. 

They looked at each other as Dean brought the bottle up to his lips, tipping it back to take one last swig of the remaining liquid before setting it on the coffee table. He’d only had about half of the beer, but something told him he’d want to be as sober as humanly possible for what he was hoping to happen next. His eyes flicked down to Castiel’s lips, pink and full and- wow, there’s no way Dean could actually go through with this. He was a guy for crying out loud! He didn’t have anything against other dudes being gay or bisexual or whatever the hell else there was out there, but _Dean_? No. No way.

But then Castiel leaned in and all of his previous thoughts vanished into nothing. His mind fogged over and all he was focused on was how close the angel was to him. How full his lips were. How intensely blue his eyes were. They shared air for a second, and then Dean’s breath was taken away when Castiel pressed their lips together in a long, smooth kiss. 

An _angel_ just kissed him – fuck, an angel _was_ kissing him! And really that little push was all Dean needed to go further. It was shocking that Castiel was such a good kisser, since he’d never really been able to picture the guy with anyone, but there was probably so much more that Dean didn’t actually know about him and that was something he really didn’t want to think about in a time like this. 

Instead Dean gently pushed the angel backwards onto the couch so that he was laying on top of him. He broke their lips apart to straddle him, and then trailed little kisses down his jawline, stopping at the base of his neck. He’d never been so turned on in his life, his stomach burning with hot pleasure, his heart racing in anticipation, his mind telling him he needed _more_. Starving for friction, Dean started to grind their hips together. Castiel’s immediate response only fueled the flames in his lower belly, and he drew his lips around a part of his skin, sucking at the angel’s neck.

Castiel moaned, actually _moaned_ , and moved his hands up to Dean’s shoulders. 

He left marks on the angel, something he hadn’t done in a while because he’d never felt so territorial before. Pulling himself away from him, Dean started to take the coat and blazer off Castiel, who quickly figured out what was happening and helped him remove the articles of clothing. Once that was finished, Castiel pulled Dean down for another kiss.

Dean chuckled at his eagerness, his hands fumbling to unbutton the dress shirt he’d been wearing. He pulled away to take off the Biggerson’s tee he still had on, discarding it to the floor. They watched each other for a moment, Dean shirtless and Castiel with his chest exposed, and then Dean slowly leaned back down for another kiss, his body rocking slowly – too slowly – against the angel’s. 

This time, his hand went from resting on his abs to sliding under his pants. 

The moan that elicited from Castiel was muffled by Dean’s lips. His fingers had buried themselves into Dean’s soft, almost silky hair. Castiel pulled away from him to look into his eyes again, but he could hardly see the green past lust blown pupils.

“Dean,” he sighed out, moving his hands down his neck and back to rest on his shoulders. He frowned, massaging small circles into his shoulder blades. “I don’t think I can do this.”

Concerned, Dean took his hand out from Castiel’s boxers. “You okay, Cas?”

“It’s just...” he paused, glancing down to look at Dean’s lips. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, followed by another on the cheek.

Dean chuckled. “You’re giving me mixed signals here, buddy.”

Castiel pulled away again, moving one hand to where he had just pressed his lips and caressing the man’s cheek. “A relationship between an angel and a human is deeply frowned upon.”

Dean’s shoulders sagged, his pupils starting to shrink up again as he stared at him with furrowed eyebrows. “Cas, it’s just sex.”

The angel’s expression hardened immediately, his eyes narrowing and his eyebrows drawing together. He pulled his hands away from Dean, who quickly understood and got off of him. Before Dean could say anything else on the matter, Castiel disappeared, leaving only the fluttering sound of his wings behind. 

Whether it happened because of the lingering silence, or because he just realized how big of an idiot he was, Dean slammed his fist down onto the coffee table, shouting, “Damn it!” to someone who wasn’t even there. 


	5. Chapter 5

The sun had long since gone down, the time on the digital clock next to his bed told Dean it was a quarter after midnight. For the past few hours, he’d been sitting on the edge of his mattress wallowing in self-loathing followed by self-doubt and then a nervewracking mixture of both. Soar from being hunched over so long, he finally decided to lay down. It felt good to stretch out his back like that, his eyes closing the second that his head hit the mattress. 

Dean was exhausted, but pictures of a horny angel kept plaguing his mind. He furiously rubbed at his eyelids, trying to get Castiel out of his head. It didn’t work out too well for him.

Wiping his hand down the rest of his face, Dean sat back up with his eyes still closed and his elbows resting on his knees. He took a deep breath. 

“Alright Cas. If you can hear me through whatever weird angel shit you’ve got going on, I’m sorry,” he said. After a moment, he opened his eyes to look around the room. Nobody had appeared like he’d hoped. “Come on, man, you’re welcome to come back here. You’re probably just standing in some street staring at passing cars.” 

Nothing.

He sighed and closed his eyes again, deciding on a different approach. “Alright, fine.” He got more comfortable in his bed, kicking his feet back up and resting against the back of his headboard. “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray to Castiel to get his feathery ass back down here.”

The room was still empty. 

Giving up, Dean pulled the covers over his legs and settled into bed. His eyelids weren’t heavy, but his body felt exhausted. After Castiel had left, he ended up taking a cold shower,unwilling to go out that night but not wanting to finish himself off while thinking about another guy.

_No_ , a voice in the back of his head reproached. _An_ _gel. Castiel is an angel. A wavelength_.

Forcing himself to close his eyes, he tried to get some sleep, to ignore his damn brain announcing how big of an asshole he was. But when he finally got rid of that voice, a loud ringing startled him. He jumped, his eyes wide open, immediately moving to stare at his cellphone.

Furrowing his eyebrows, he reached for the device and stared at the screen. Bobby.

“Hello?”

“It took a hell of a lot longer than I thought it would, but I finally found somethin’.” 

Confused, Dean frowned. “What?”

“Your angel problem, idjit.”

“Oh… Uh, yeah, what is it?”

“Apparently that Castiel, he’s your Guardian Angel.”

“My _what_?”

“It’s a bunch of bull crap if you ask me, but it’s the only thing I can find in these damn books,” Bobby said. “Everyone’s got their own fairy godmother.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“I wish I were. Listen to this; some of them go rogue and ruin poor Cinderelly’s life.”

“What? Why?”

“You think I’d know that?” scoffed Bobby. From the other end, Dean could hear shuffling, and then Bobby said, “Sometimes these ‘angels’ go as far as to kill ‘em.”

“Is there a way to get rid of those dicks?”

“Well, you could smite them before they turn on ya.”

“How are you supposed to destroy a Terminator with wings?”

“An Angel Blade.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “An Angel Blade,” he repeated.

“Every angel carries one. If you wanted to get it, you’d have to trick one into giving it to you. There are some cases where the guardian has actually given their blade to the sucker in their charge, but I don’t think this Castiel of yours is going to just hand you a weapon.”

“Whoa Bobby, I don’t want to kill him,” Dean said. “I just want him to get back into Heaven.”

“What? You don’t want to- you’re tellin’ me I searched night and day to get you this information and you don’t even want to kill the bastard?”

“He’s not a bad guy.”

Bobby grunted. “Just make sure next time you ask for somethin’, I can actually get it for you.”

“Right.”

The line went dead. Sighing, Dean set the phone back onto his nightstand and stared at the digital alarm clock. 12:40 a.m. He rubbed at his face, taking a minute to soak in another self-loathing bath. Then he slowly rested his head down onto his pillows and closed his eyes. 

 

⛥⛥⛥⛥⛥ 

 

Rays of sunshine peaked in through Dean’s half closed blinds, tapping his eyelids to inform him that it was time to wake up. He raised his arm to wipe the sleep away from his eyes, only to pull away and see a man looming above him. In a matter of milliseconds, he had grasped the shotgun from under his pillow, cocked it, and aimed the barrel at the intruder.

It took him a moment to veer away from his instinctive side and to recognize the man as Castiel. He wiped his hand down his face.

“Damn it, Cas, how many times do I have to say it?” Dean asked, putting the safety back on. “It’s just creepy!” He slipped the gun back where he’d taken it from.

“You said I was allowed in your home,” was all Castiel said.

Dean paused. “Uh… Yeah, I did.”

“I came back.”

“I get that.”

“Dean, did you perhaps call me here because you were lonely?”

“What? No. I was just telling you not to be so childish.”

Castiel frowned. “I do not find my reactions to be childish.” He paused, his eyes momentarily straying away from Dean’s. “As I understand, humans often feel ‘heartbroken’ when their loved one does not return the sentiment.”

“Cas,” Dean breathed out. “You, you’re, I just- sex is sex. I thought you were just giving in to a physical attraction, not that there were any real feelings involved.” 

“I understand.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Dean slowly stood up. “I’m, uh…” He swallowed a lump in his throat. “I’m going to get dressed.”

Castiel nodded, watching Dean grab a fresh change in clothes and head off to the bathroom. The door clicked shut behind him, an angel and a man separated by a thin wall. It was weird, how Dean didn’t feel as awkward as he probably should have been in this situation. He’d never really been attracted to a man before. Sure, there were people like Dr. Sexy who was, for lack of a better word, just plain _sexy_. But everyone was attracted to Dr. Sexy, right? The guy had sensible shoes for crying out loud and if that didn’t make him appealing worldwide then Dean didn’t know what did. 

Then there were random guys on the street that he would, on occasion, catch himself checking out. He never really paid much attention to those incidents. The urge had never been strong enough for him to act on, so he figured that if he didn’t need to get another dude in bed then he was just a straight guy that could appreciate fellow good looking man. 

Apparently not because there had been nothing he craved more than Castiel’s fingers threading through his hair, pulling him close, grinding against him- just the touch of _Cas_. It was ethereal, just like the angel himself. 

He really felt like an idiot for not discovering his bisexuality sooner. 

Yeah, maybe it wasn’t ideal. Maybe his father would’ve been repulsed by his own son had he known anything about it, but Dean would be damned if he wasn’t going to take this information like a man. So he was a little bit gay. Whatever. It’s not like it’s the worst thing that could’ve happened to him. There are definitely worse things out there. 

And if it meant he has twice the chance of getting laid? Hell yeah. 

Dean came out of the bathroom clean shaven, feeling pretty good about himself. He had changed into his regular attire (some old flannel left unbuttoned, black shirt, blue jeans), his hair was still damp from the shower and his confidence had skyrocketed. 

Only to plummet back down when he saw Castiel still waiting for him in the hall.

The angel took note of the outfit, furrowing his eyebrows as an initial reaction. He looked from Dean’s shoes to his face, squinting his eyes and tilting his head. 

“It’s my day off,” Dean explained, trying to sound casual. He actually wished he did have to go in to work just so he wouldn’t have to spend a whole day in awkward silence with an angel that he almost had sex with the night before. “I, uh,” he cleared his throat. “I was going to go grocery shopping instead.” He carefully pushed past Castiel to get back into his room. Once inside, he took his phone from the nightstand and slipped it into his pocket. 

“I’ll go with you.”

Turning back to Castiel, Dean gave him a questioning look. Then, with his expression softening, he huffed out a laugh. Shaking his head, he moved out of the bedroom and down the stairs, not one looking behind him to the angel following. The house and car keys, residing on the same chain, sat idly on the dining room table. Dean snatched them up, swinging them around his finger on his way out the door. 

Outside, Castiel stared at the black car parked on the curb with such an intensity that Dean realized this was the first time he’d actually seen it. _Well,_ Dean mused as he locked the front door, _actually seen it firsthand_. He had to keep reminding himself that this was his Guardian Angel, and that he’d been with Dean since birth. Which was… Kind of a creepy thought, in all honesty.

“You like her?” Dean asked, coming to stand next to Castiel on the sidewalk.

Castiel nodded.

“That’s a 1967 Chevrolet Impala,” he said. He walked up to the car, stopping at the driver’s side to pat the top of her gently. “327 four barrel, 275 horses. Near perfect condition. Baby’s the only car I’ve ever needed and after so many years and a few accidents, she still runs like a charm.” He smiled at the exterior before seating himself inside. 

Slowly, Castiel walked up to the car. He took a moment to look at her body shape, which only made Dean’s chest fill with cotton balls. Really, this fuzziness in his stomach was something that needed to disappear as soon as possible. It was not an enjoyable feeling. 

Yet, when Castiel carefully opened the door to the passenger’s side and lowered himself down, Dean figured that maybe he could endure it a little longer. Just as long as he could see an angel admiring all the hard work he’d put into fixing Baby up again and again. She was the one thing he could always look back on and know he actually did something right. 

“You care very deeply for this car,” Castiel stated once Dean got her going.

“There’s so much history behind her,” he said. “She’s been there for me through everything.”

“I know.”

There was a hitch in Dean’s breathing. He glanced over to Castiel, but the angel was staring at the radio knobs with the same amount of concentration he had when he was watching the Impala from afar. Wetting his lips, Dean quickly looked back to the road in front of him. Swiftly, he reached over and turned the music up, trying to dissipate the uncomfortable silence. 

Castiel reached for the volume control. He turned it down and then back up, then with a push of the button stopped the tape that was playing and turned it to a radio station. Disproving of the song, he switched it to a different one.

“Hey, no, whoa-” Dean extended his arm, blocking the angel’s hand. “What do you think you’re doing touching a man’s radio like that?”

Arm hanging in the air, Castiel turned to look at him. “I’m curious as to what the other buttons do,” he said.

“So you’re just going to press random buttons and cross your fingers?” Dean asked, glancing over to the angel with furrowed eyebrows. He took his hand back, watching as Castiel slowly did the same.

“That was the general idea.”

“Dude,” Dean said, “you don’t just do that. Driver picks the music. It’s a universal rule.”

“I don’t understand.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He leaned backwards, reaching his arm around the seat to snatch a bag of cassette tapes from the back. He shoved the bag into his lap. “Here, just pick a damn tape and stick with it.” 

All of the different tapes ended up distracting Castiel the rest of the way. He examined each one, read all the labels, and ran his fingers across the surface of every individual tape until Dean pulled Baby into a parking lot. 

On the way in, Dean stooped down to grab a handheld basket. He looked over to Castiel.

“Try not to cause any trouble,” he said. “These are people, not hunters or angels or demons or anything like that. They don’t know about the supernatural.”

“I understand that, Dean.”

“And that means you can’t just fly off, okay? People will notice.”

“You’ve told me this before, Dean.”

“Can’t be too sure with you.”

Dean swore he saw Castiel roll his eyes at that statement. It was strange to see such a human reaction on such a celestial being. 

As they were walking down the aisle, Dean was trying to remember what he really needed from the store. He knew they needed more milk, and he definitely knew that there was a substantial lack of pie in the house. He made a beeline for the pastries, mind set on grabbing a whole pie (because he freaking deserved it) when he spotted two familiar women walking their way.

He smiled at them, a little surprised to actually bump into Jo and Ellen Harvelle at the grocery store. Neither of them returned the joyful expression.

“Long time no see, kid,” Dean greeted once they got close enough. He ruffled the shorter girl’s hair, grinning at the sister he never had. 

She swatted his hand away. “I’m not a kid,” Jo said, patting her blonde hair back into place.

“Right.” He looked up to the older woman, who was giving Castiel an awkward sideways stare. “So, you two doing your Sunday shopping?”

She took her eyes off of the angel, stepping closer to Dean. “Look,” she said, voice low. “We didn’t want to have to ask you this, but everyone else is so busy these days...”

Suddenly, Dean’s expression hardened. “What do you need?”

The older woman looked back to Castiel awkwardly. 

Dean shook his head. “He’s fine. He knows about everything.”

“A hunter?” Jo inquired skeptically. She made eye contact with Castiel, narrowing her eyes at him.

All he did in response was squint and tilt his head at her.

“Kind of,” Dean said. “It’s a long story, but you can trust him.”

Jo rolled her eyes, looking back to Dean. “It’s for a case.”

“You need me for a case?” Dean glanced over to Castiel, who was staring right back at him. He turned his attention back to the Harvelle’s. “You’re a pair of the toughest hunters I know.” He paused. “Unless...”

“It’s not a group job,” Ellen said. “Don’t go worrying ‘bout that, boy.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“We already promised our help to another guy a few towns over,” she said. “We’re leaving today, but we just heard news about five deaths in one home. All of them were eaten alive in their backyard.”

“A Wendigo?” Dean asked.

Jo glanced at her mother. “That’s what we thought at first, too,” she said. “But there were no scratch marks, and those things rarely leave Michigan and Minnesota anyway.”

“They were stacked up neatly on top of each other in a dog pile,” Ellen told him. 

“Could just be Hannibal at it again,” Dean said. 

“There was bear fur at the scene, but their bodies were mutilated first by knife,” said Ellen. “After thinking it was a wendigo, we thought it could have been a rugaru, but witnesses report seeing a creature flying away from the family’s backyard.” 

Dean furrowed his eyebrows. “What? Why haven’t we heard of this sooner?” He glanced to Castiel.

“It’s all over the news,” Jo said.

“Yeah, maybe the news channel,” Dean scoffed. “Does anyone put anything useful in newspapers anymore?”

“Don’t act like you read the Sunday papers, boy.”

“I do!”

Castiel nodded his head. “I distinctly remember him skimming over the comic section at least once in his lifetime.”

Dean opened his mouth to retort, but closed it immediately, just staring at Castiel along with Jo and Ellen. “Dude,” he said.

Castiel tilted his head.

Jo shook her head, looking back at Dean. “If you can’t handle this, I’m sure there are other hunters somewhere who would be willing to man up and take the job.”

“It’s right here in town if that makes you feel any better,” Ellen said. 

“Great. You hear that, Cas? Our neighbor’s a flying, man-eating werebear.”

“Will you do it or not?” Jo asked.

His eyes trailed over to Castiel. The angel just watched him in that abnormally intense way he always did, so Dean turned to look back at Ellen and Jo. He nodded.

Ellen frowned. “You don’t have to do this.”

“You’re family,” Dean said. “It’s what we do.”

Quietly, Jo said, “We’re running late, and we still have to get a few more things.”

“Right. Good luck, boys,” Ellen said, though she narrowed her eyes a little bit at Castiel before turning around and stalking off.

Jo smiled at Dean, gave Castiel a suspicious half smile, and then followed behind her mother. He watched them until they disappeared around the next aisle.

Looking longingly at the pie, Dean sighed and turned to Castiel. “Let’s go grab a bite.”

Castiel furrowed his eyebrows. “What happened to shopping?” he asked, following Dean back toward the door.

“That can wait ‘til next week, Cas.” He dropped the basket down with all the others as they walked outside. “We’ve got bigger fish to fry right now. So, how ‘bout it?”

“Yes, but we need a fish in order to fry it. I’m fairly certain they sell those here.”

Laughing, Dean wrapped an arm around Castiel’s shoulders and guided him to the car.  


	6. Chapter 6

The address they’d received lead them to a typical suburban neighborhood, with trees that lined the sidewalk and houses that all had the same floor plan. Dean parked the car on the curb directly in front of a light gray single story home. Both of them simultaneously got out of the car, the sun lighting up the back of their heads. The angel didn’t move from where he stood beside Baby. His eyes were locked on the house even as Dean stepped in front of his view.

“Remember,” he said, reaching up to fix Castiel’s blue tie, “let me do all the talking.” He lifted his gaze, fixing his eyes to Castiel’s. 

“I don’t see why I’m needed here if I won’t be speaking at all.”

Dean smoothed out his blazer, finishing with a gentle pat to the chest. Satisfied with the angel’s appearance, he flashed a grin. “The buddy system, Cas.” He turned to the house and started up the walkway with Castiel trailing close behind. “No one’s going to believe we’re FBI agents if we don’t go together. Those guys always interview in partners for witnesses if they get lied to or some shit like that.”

“But we aren’t FBI agents.”

“I know that, but for the sake of this case we are.”

They step up to the porch and Dean takes a minute to straighten himself out before pushing his index finger against the white button to the side. They can both hear the doorbell’s ringing echo throughout the house. 

Seconds later, a mousy woman opened the door. She peeked her head out at them, looking from Castiel to Dean and then back to Castiel. Her hold on the door tightened until her knuckles turned white and she refused to show them anything aside from her head, using the wooden door as a shield of sorts. 

“Linda Zanetti?” 

Her eyes snapped back to Dean, and she slowly nodded her confirmation. “May I help you?” she asked quietly. 

Smiling at her, Dean reached into the inside pocket of his suit, nudging Castiel as he took his badge out. “I’m Agent Mosley,” he said, flashing her his identification. “This is my partner, Agent Moscone.” He nodded over to Castiel, only to find out too late that the angel was holding his badge upside down. Awkwardly, he flipped it around in Castiel’s hands. “He’s new.” Dean cleared his throat, putting the wallet back into his pocket. “Can we come in to ask you a few questions?” 

“Oh, um, of course. Sure, right this way,” she mumbled. She stepped aside, opening the door wider to allow the men to enter. Once they’ve both crossed over the threshold, Ms. Zanetti shut the door and silently moved in front of them. She lead them through a short hall, past several pictures of childish drawings taped to the wall, and into a decently sized family room. She motioned to the love seat that faced the television screen. “Please.”

Dean picked up a teddy bear from the corner of the couch, setting it at his feet so he can properly sit down. Castiel joined him on the couch, bumping their knees together. Dean cleared his throat, his whole body stiffening, and he pushed his entire body against the arm of the chair. 

Ms. Zanetti smiled softly at them, grabbing a wooden chair from the corner of the room. She didn’t bother moving the miniature wolf before she dragged it to the sofa and sat down. She was leaning forward with her elbows on her knees and her hands clasped together, sitting right across from the two. 

Ms. Zanetti started playing with her own fingers, moving her eyes down to her hands. “What is this about?” she finally asked. 

“We’re here concerning the death of Leopold Short and his family.”

She went rigid and wide-eyed. Everything about her looked frightened. 

Dean smiled, trying to calm her down. “We’ve been informed that you are somehow connected with Mr. Short,” he said. Just by her reactions she was immediately put on his suspects list, but nothing about her gave him any sort of supernatural vibes. 

Ms. Zanetti offered a curt nod. “Yes...” Inhaling deeply, she prepared herself to speak. “He and I were romantically involved for some time,” she admitted. She licked her lips, making eye contact with Dean. “But I’m afraid I don’t understand,” she said slowly. “The police said they were mauled by wolves. I didn’t think the FBI dealt with animal attacks.”

Shifting, Dean glanced sideways at Castiel. “We have reason to believe that Mr. Short and his family were murdered.”

The impact of those words startled Ms. Zanetti into a tense, alarmed state of awareness. Her brows drew close together, her wide eyes locked on Dean, her mouth hung open. “He...” She swallowed a lump in her throat. “ _Murdered_?” she repeated breathlessly. 

Dean nodded. “Where were you that night?” 

“I, I was here,” Ms. Zanetti told them. “I was right here at home…”

“Do you have anyone to vouch for you?”

A door from the hallway swung open suddenly, and a young girl came bounding into the room. She held a fairly thick book in her chubby fingers, her face alight with joy, and her dark hair pulled up into a lively ponytail.

“Mama!” She called out, skidding to a stop in front of Ms. Zanetti. “Can we read? Can we?” She lifted the book above her head to show her mother. “Please?”

Turning her head to her daughter, Ms. Zanetti’s eyes lingered on the men before she turned them to the cover. “Not now, sweetie. We have company.”

The girl went quiet, lowering the book to hug it at her chest. She peered over her shoulder, then pivoted on her heels to face them. Her eyes met with her shoes. “‘M sorry for interrupting,” she said, her voice lowered to a whisper. She peaked at them through her bangs, quickly averting her gaze back down when her eyes met with Dean’s.

“Do not apologize,” Castiel spoke. 

The girl’s head shot right back up to stare at him. Both the angel and the girl engaged in an intense staring contest with one another until Castiel lifted his arm to give her a very small, very awkward wave. Giggling, the girl lifted her book to hide her face behind it. 

“Luci, why don’t you go into your room and play for a little bit while I talk to these kind gentlemen?” said Ms. Zanetti. 

“Okay,” she drawled, looking back up from the novel. For another few seconds, she watched Castiel watch her. Then she broke out into another fit of giggles and scurried back to her room. 

Dean raised his eyebrows, watching her disappear behind the door before looking back to the angel.

“That was my daughter, Lucille.” Ms. Zanetti’s lips curled up in a fond smile. “She’s almost seven, can you believe it?”

Castiel nodded, saying, “Yes” just as Dean grinned and said, “They grow up so fast.”

Dean shot Castiel a look, but the angel only returned it with a confused one. He rolled his eyes, looking back to the woman in front of them. Castiel continued to squint at Dean.

Posture now much more lax, Ms. Zanetti sighed. “I was with her the night that Leo died,” she said. She frowned, rubbing the fabric of her sleeves between her index finger and thumb. “He’s actually...” Her eyes moved to her lap. “He’s her father.”

Dean looked at Castiel, who was then watching Ms. Zanetti.

“Him and I were childhood friends,” she explained. “About seven years ago, his wife suffered a miscarriage. It hit them hard. I can only imagine what it feels like to carry your dead, unborn child around...” She had to stop speaking for a moment, no longer fiddling with her clothes. “He invited me for drinks that night. We both had much more than necessary.” She looked back up at them. “You see, at the time I was also undergoing a divorce. We were both under a lot of stress… One thing led to another, and here we are. His wife never found out, but he always sends us money and buys Luci wonderful things for the holidays.” She took a deep breath. “Well, he did. When he was alive.”

Castiel frowned. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.”

Dean straightened his back out. “Did you experience anything… Weird, leading up to his death?”

“Weird...” she looked at him skeptically. “Weird how?”

“Some people reported seeing a flying creature that night,” he explained. “We’re just trying to find out if this could be possible.”

“That’s absurd!”

“I know it sounds a little strange, but you can trust us. If you’ve seen anything out of the ordinary, we won’t think you’re crazy.”

Ms. Zanetti shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t witnessed anything as weird as that.”

Dean frowned. This couldn’t really be just your regular, run-of-the-mill animal attack could it? Ellen and Jo knew what they were doing when they started the investigation, there was no way they could have misinterpreted the evidence. 

“Do you know of anyone who might have wanted him dead?” he asked. 

“Leo?” She mimicked his frown, looking back to her lap. “No, no, Leo was a great man.”

“The kind of guy that everybody loved?”

“Well, no...” She glanced up at him. “I, I can only really think of one person who could possibly resent him. But everyone has people that dislike them, it’s normal!”

“I’m sorry, but we need to be thorough,” Dean said. “If you give us the name, we can give them a quick interview and check them off our list.”

Hesitantly, she lifted her head. “My brother, Sebastian Foley.”

“Brother,” Dean said with raised eyebrows. 

The woman sighed. “Half brother, I should say. He knew about everything that had been going on at the time. I don’t think he was very happy that Leo didn’t stick around after that.” She frowned. “But for heaven’s sake, he’s not a cannibal! He could never hurt another human being.”

“We understand,” Dean said. “We just need to explore every possibility. Has your brother been acting strange lately?”

Ms. Zanetti narrowed her eyes. “Strange as in growing wings and flying from the crime scene?” Immediately she downcast her eyes, wringing the hem of her shirt. 

Dean forced a smile. “This’ll definitely sound weird, but stick with me,” he said. “Has he experienced an irregular increase in appetite?” 

The woman looked back up, openly staring at him. “Ah – I – what?” 

“Is your brother constantly in search for food,” said Castiel.

Dean glared at the angel from the corners of his eyes, quickly looking back at Ms. Zanetti, who was squirming in her chair. “I know it’s kind of out there,” he said, “and it might not seem like it but it will help us in this investigation.”

“You two are nuts!” she exclaimed, voice trembling. “I, I haven’t spoken to him since his birthday, I couldn’t tell you his eating habits. But he would not just randomly start craving human flesh!”

Dean and Castiel looked at each other. Then, a little awkwardly, Dean asked, “How old is he?”

“Thirty,” she stated. “Why? Is this at all important?”

Dean stood up. “No, don’t worry. We’re about done here.”

After a short pause, Castiel reluctantly stood. 

Ms. Zanetti looked from Dean to Castiel. She jumped to her feet, clutching at her own shirt with both hands. “I swear he wouldn’t do anything like this! That’s just not him!”

“We believe you, ma’am,” said Dean. “It’s just procedure.”

The woman didn’t look convinced, but she slowly nodded her head anyway. “Okay...” she wrapped her arms around herself. 

“Thank you for your time,” Dean said.

He turned to Castiel, but the angel was distracted, his eyes directed to the hallway. Lucille stood just outside her bedroom, book still in hand, eyes glued to Castiel. Slowly, she raised her arm to wave in a way that mirrored the one Castiel had given her earlier. The angel furrowed his eyebrows, nodding at her in acknowledgment. 

Lucille giggled, disappearing back into her room. The door shut behind her. 


	7. Chapter 7

“Got your blowtorch ready, Cas?”

The angel stood beside Dean at the back of the car, staring intently at the tool gripped loosely in his own hands. He frowned. “Yes...” he said. He looked up at Dean with squinted eyes. “However, I still don’t see why we need them.”

With a hand on the door of the trunk, Dean stared over at him. “It’s the only way to kill one of these sonsabitches. You’re an angel, I thought you’d know that.”

“Have you explored the possibility that Sebastian Foley isn’t a rugaru?”

“The hell are you talking about, Cas?” Dean took his hand away and furrowed his eyebrows. “He fits the criteria.”

“I believe the only thing you have to rely on is his age.”

“What are you saying? That we should go in, completely unarmed, and risk being eaten alive?”

Castiel carefully set the blowtorch back into the trunk. “Dean, what were we going to do if we went in there and Sebastian was human?”

“We’d have figured something out,” he said.

The angel squinted. 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Fine. What was your plan?”

“We should pursue this like we did with Ms. Zanetti,” Castiel stated. “Posing as FBI agents.” 

“And if he’s actually a rugaru?” he asked. “We go up there, we’re lunch.”

“I am an angel, Dean. I will protect us both.”

Glaring, Dean put the torch back into the trunk. Castiel nodded, turned around, and started toward the apartment complex they had parked in front of. Dean snatched his demon-killing knife from the holder, shut the trunk door, and slipped it into his pocket. Then he followed Castiel, who had stopped by cement stairs to wait for him. 

Castiel was the first to climb the steps with Dean close behind. Once at the top, he tried to move around the angel to ring the door bell, but Castiel blocked his path and knocked on the wooden door himself. Dean looked at him curiously, but the angel’s gaze didn’t waver from the peephole.

A minute passed without them receiving an answer. This time Castiel knocked a little harder. 

Another thirty seconds went by.

“He’s probably hiding,” Dean said. “You stay here and I’ll climb his balcony.” He went over to the railing.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Dean.”

“And why the hell not?”

The door opened then, revealing an olive-skinned man with bags under his eyes. The worry lines and unshaven chin made him look much older than he really was. The man yawned, and Dean mentally checked him off the list, sharing a look with Castiel.

He blinked wearily at them. “Yeah?”

“Sebastian Foley?” Dean asked. 

“Yes?”

Dean pulled out his badge. “Special Agent Mosley. This is my partner, Agent Moscone.”

Mr. Foley looked at Castiel, and Dean realized that he hadn’t taken his badge out. He nudged the angel, glaring at him. Luckily, he held his badge right side up that time.

“We have a few questions we’d like to ask you,” he said, concealing his badge. “Can we come in?”

Mr. Foley frowned. “What is this about?”

“We’re here concerning the death of Leopold Short.”

The man’s face instantly hardened. “FBI shouldn’t be investigating an animal attack.”

“We have reason to believe he was murdered.”

“What reason?”

“That information is classified to the public,” Dean said. “Can we ask you a few questions?”

“No.” Mr. Foley crossed his arms. “I don’t want to hear anything about that worthless douchebag. I’m glad he’s dead. And maybe Linda doesn’t want to believe it, but I know she’s relieved that he’s gone too.”

“How can you be so sure?” Castiel asked.

“Because he was abusive,” Mr. Foley spat. “He beat her and emotionally abused Lucille. He was a horrible person and he deserved what happened to him.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. 

“I’m not the one who killed him,” Mr. Foley said. He frowned at the two of them. “That’s all I have to say on the subject.”

The door slammed in their faces.

Dean stood there, staring at the door. Then he made eye contact with Castiel, glancing back to the house one more time. He furrowed his eyebrows, turning to the stairs.

“He’s not our guy,” Dean muttered, heading for the car. “How is he not our guy?”

“Perhaps we aren’t looking for a rugaru. Ellen and Jo themselves already discarded the thought of it being a wendigo or a rugaru.”

“What else could it be?”

Castiel frowned. “There are things that can survive in this world not even you have the ability to understand. Dark things that thrive on different dimensions, that move from one parallel universe to another. It is possible that the Short family had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time when one of these beings surfaced.”

Dean stared at him. “You’re telling me that there are more supernatural monsters out there that can just pop up out of nowhere?”

“Most entities prefer to stay in the confinements of the cosmic plane they originated. But yes, you’re right.”

“Well ain’t that a kick in the head,” Dean muttered, shutting the car door behind him. 

 

⛥⛥⛥⛥⛥

 

“I need your help.”

Bobby huffed on the other line. “If it has anything to do with that angel, I already told you everything I knew.”

“No, it’s not that.” He glanced over at Castiel. His blue eyes bored holes into the blank television screen across from him. Dean smiled. “We’re actually...” _Friends_ was the first thing that he thought of, but it definitely wasn’t what he had planned to say. He stalled himself, wondering if that was true. Were they really friends? It wasn’t something he really wanted to think too much about. Thinking of an angel, your guardian angel, as anything other than… Well, _fake_ , was a still foreign to him.

“Oh, balls.”

Dean looked away from him. “What?”

“You two aren’t makin’ babies over there are you?” Bobby asked.

“What? Bobby, gross, no, we’re not – no.” Almost unwillingly, his eyes snapped back to Castiel. 

The angel stared at him. Head tilted, eyes squinted, brows furrowed.

Dean cleared his throat. “No,” he said again. “We’re hunting, Bobby.”

“ _Hunting?_ ” Somehow he managed to sound more shocked than if he’d been told that Dean really was banging an angel in a male meat suit. “You gave that up.”

“It’s a favor for Ellen and Jo,” he said, taking a seat next to Castiel on the couch. “Whole family eaten in their backyard. We thought we were hunting a rugaru but the guy we got close to wasn’t actually the culprit.”

“You’re having trouble hunting a rugaru? You really are rusty.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “We’re not so sure it’s a rugaru anymore. Do you have any idea what else it could be?”

“Were there scratch marks on the body?”

“We already ruled out Wendigo.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you. You’re back to amateur status, boy.”

“Gee Bobby, I’m really feeling the love and support.”

“I’m not here to pamper you, princess,” Bobby said. “What makes you think that this isn’t just a normal animal attack?”

“They were piled on top of each other afterward. You think an animal could stack them up like that?”

“Okay. Have you gone to the actual crime scene yet?”

“Well...”

The walls seemed to shake then, loud thumping noises coming from upstairs interrupting Dean’s thought process. Dean stood up, staring at the staircase, heart slamming itself hard against his rib cage. 

“I gotta go.” He hung up and tossed the phone on the couch cushion. 

Castiel was right by Dean’s side. They glanced at each other, then Dean walked through the hallway and to the steps with Castiel close behind. 

An ear shattering crash let them know that whatever was up there was in Dean’s bedroom. Picking up his pace, Dean jogged up the stairs. Castiel must have started jogging too, because he could feel the angel right at his back the entire time. 

They halted at the door frame. Inside his bedroom, standing on top of his mattress, was a monster he’d never seen before. It looked like something straight out of Dr. Moreau’s island, but worse. Sharp, protruding teeth peaked out from the muzzle of a viscous wolf. It snarled and drooled, crouching down the best it could with a grizzly bear’s torso. Slowly, the thing maneuvered itself off of the bed, standing low on its buff human limbs. 

The creature stood up straight, puffing out its chest and extending brown feathery wings to their full length. 

“What the Hell is that?”

Using its wings to propel itself across the room, the monster dashed toward Dean with one arm raised. Its hands were normal, human hands with the exception of rather large, sharp-looking claws. Dean ducked and jumped out of the way. He could feel the feathers glide across the top of his head. He landed on a cluster of broken glass below his window, the edges cutting through his clothes and digging into his skin. 

“I...” Castiel squinted at the monster, who was now next to him just inside of the room. “I don’t know.”

“How do you not know!” He ripped the only shard large enough for him to wrap his fingers around out of his upper arm. 

It stopped, turned its entire body to Castiel, and stared into the angel’s eyes.

“Cas, get away from it!” Dean said, dropping the glass and diving for the gun under his pillow. 

Castiel ignored Dean, instead taking a step toward the creature. Dean grunted, pointing the gun at the monster and shooting it twice in the wing. It howled in pain, stumbling backward until its body slammed against the door. Steadying itself, it flashed glowing green eyes at Dean and lunged for him again. 

Dean shot it in the chest as it advanced, but the bullets seemed to do nothing but absorb into its furry body. He shot its wing again. This time the monster winced but did not stop. It tackled Dean, knocking the gun right out of his hand, rendering him helpless. Months had passed since he was last out there fighting without the help of a weapon, but he didn’t think he’d lost so much of his previous knowledge. Not only on hand-to-hand combat, but with everything about hunting. 

Then again, he _was_ fighting a ferocious monster whose existence an angel of the lord wasn’t even aware of. 

Snapping its pair of choppers in his face, the beast refused to relent even as Dean kicked and choked it. It growled and barked and struggled against his rough hands. Then, as if just remembering it was able to use other parts of its body, it sunk its claws deep into his shoulders. 

Dean flinched, his entire body tensing. This thing was going to kill him. He was going to die and no one was going to know what the hell happened to him. He looked up at the creature through squinted eyes, still trying to hold its jaws away from him.

The tiny head of a wolf sitting on the giant body of a bear like that was at least comical. If anything, he’d be able to die in humor. 

Dean tried in vain to knee and kick at it some more. With one clawed hand still stuck inside of him, it pulled the other out and raised it menacingly. Dean cried out in pain. The thick talons were dripping with his own blood. He shut his eyes in anticipation, burrowing his fingers into the fur of its neck. 

Then the creature was ripped away from his hands. His eyes flung open in time to see the thing smack into the opposing wall. It gave a pathetic bark when its back went into contact with the surface. He watched it slide to the floor with its wings wrapped around itself like a cocoon.

Castiel stood in front of Dean, and Dean squeezed his eyes shut and gripped his wounds. 

Slowly, it got up. With a whimper the creature stared at Castiel, looking as though it had been betrayed. Its wings briefly extended, then folded onto its back as it got on all fours and slowly walked toward the angel. The whimpers only grew louder under Castiel’s cold stare. It averted its eyes to the floor, stopping in front of the angel.

Dean moved to sit up, which only proved to be a mistake when his sides started to sting worse than before. He groaned and moved one hand to clutch his stomach, glaring at the creature at Castiel’s feet. 

The monster started growling when it noticed that Dean was still alive. It lowered itself to the floor, baring its teeth and snarling. It barked once, backed up two steps, and then shot forward. 

Castiel outstretched his arm, stopping the creature before it got to Dean. Once its forehead collided with the angel’s palm, a pure white, intense, blinding light burst from the point at which they connected. The light filled every corner of the room, forcing Dean to shield his eyes. 

When he looked back up, the monster was gone. 


	8. Chapter 8

The room went still. Quiet. Eerie. Castiel was the only other person there, yet Dean still felt the need to look around and make sure that they really were alone. He turned to look at the bed first, but the sudden movement in his neck rattled the rest of his body, reminding him he’d been injured during the fight. A pathetically high-pitched cry escaped him. His breaths were forced to become shallow and short for the stinging to go back to a dull throb. 

Castiel turned to him, crouching down and resting a hand on his cheek. “I can help you,” he said.

“What?” 

Castiel moved to place his fingers on Dean’s forehead. Just like that, all of the pain he’d felt completely faded away. Dean huffed, looking at the angel with wide eyes.

“Jesus, Cas, is there anything you can’t do?”

“Yes.”

Dean snickered, shaking his head.

With the help of Castiel, Dean got to his feet. It took him a minute to steady himself. Going from completely in pain to feeling greater than great was kind of intense. Either way, Castiel’s ability to patch someone up good as knew was a damn good thing to know. 

The angel frowned. “Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine. What did you do?”

“I healed you.”

“No, I mean what did you do to that thing?”

“Oh. I sent it to a wooded area north of here. It should be confused and disoriented right now. I,” he paused. “I couldn’t kill it just by touching it.”

“You couldn’t kill it?” Dean scoffed. “Well, if a freaking angel can’t kill something...”

“It’s not invincible,” Castiel assured him. “Now that I’ve touched it, I understand what it is. We can get rid of it.”

“Well, what the hell is it?”

“A tulpa.”

“A _tulpa_?”

“Yes.”

“Who’s the bastard that made it?”

“The pneuma fingerprints left behind belonged to Lucille Zanetti.”

Dean openly stared at him. “I’m sorry – what? A seven year old girl was actually able to conjure that thing into reality?”

“She was very well-educated. Very in tune with her spiritual surroundings.”

With the furrowed eyebrows, wide eyes, scrunched nose, it was evident that Dean still wasn’t so convinced about who the culprit really was. In his mind it had to be Sebastian Foley. That was the only thing that actually made sense, because how could a little girl want her father to die so badly she was able to create her own supernatural being to kill him? How could a child even think with such darkness, let alone turn it into a reality?

Castiel pressed his lips into a thin line, watching Dean for a moment. Then, slowly, the angel relaxed his features. “We’re lucky it wasn’t something else,” he said. “I know it’s easier for you to believe that Sebastian did it, but you have to trust me.”

 

⛥⛥⛥⛥⛥ 

 

The sketches were horrible, even for a seven year old. Messy, unsteady lines were continuously drawn over each other, making it much thicker and darker than necessary. If it weren’t for the helpful labels pointing to each section then Dean wouldn’t even be able to tell if those were the pictures he was supposed to be destroying or not. 

“You’re sure they won’t wake up?” Dean asked, turning to Castiel. 

The angel nodded. “Yes.”

Shrugging, Dean looked back down at the papers in his hand. He had found five drawings of the same creature in the living room alone, while Castiel found ten in Lucille’s bedroom. They had searched the entire household and were sure that there were only fifteen drawings. The materialization process should cease and the creature should no longer exist in physical form. 

“Cross your fingers,” Dean said, taking a box of matches from his back pocket. He slid the match across the box twice before it caught aflame, tossing it into the logs. 

They waited a moment, watching the flames flicker and spark. Dean dropped his pile in first, one at a time, watching the paper turn darker and darker until all that was left were ashes. Castiel burned his share after.

“That girl has one wild imagination,” Dean said. He turned his gaze to the mantelpiece.

“Yes. Her mother did read to her often.”

“Her father was a Grade A Douchebag,” he said, “but she’s got one sick, twisted mind.”

Castiel stayed silent. 

They waited for the fire to fully consume every last inch of paper they’d tossed in there before putting it out. With a deep breath, Dean turned to look at the angel. Castiel’s face was much closer than he had anticipated. He took a startled step back. Those blue eyes suddenly felt almost like home. Even more startled than before, he took another step backward to distance himself from the angel. 

But Castiel only took two steps forward, his eyes narrowed, his head tilted, his eyebrows furrowed, his curious face way too freaking endearing for Dean’s own good.

“Dude.” His voice betrayed him. He had wanted to say it firmly, but it came out more affectionate than anything. “We’ve talked about this. Personal space?”

Still Castiel only watched him. For a moment Dean thought that he was going to take another step toward him, maybe even kiss him, but then the angel stepped back, distancing himself. His suddenly diffident downcast eyes worried Dean.

“My apologies,” he said. 

Dean cleared his throat, forcing his eyes away from Castiel. “Right. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Outside, the morning air pushed at their cheeks. The sun was just beginning to rise, peaking through the gaps between houses and trees to shine on Baby, who sat by the curb patiently awaiting their return. Without a word, Dean walked around to the driver’s side and got in, not bothering to wait for Castiel to get inside before starting the car. 

“I work today,” said Dean, pulling onto the street. “Did you want me to drop you off at home?”

Castiel shook his head. “I’ll accompany you.”

“Right.” 

Reaching over, Dean switched the station to classic rock and cranked the volume. It only took one song for the angel to lower it enough for him to be heard. 

“Dude, don’t mess with Van Halen.” Dean reached over to turn it back up.

“You miss hunting,” Castiel said.

Nearly running them into the sidewalk, Dean put both hands on the wheel to regain control. He swallowed a lump in his throat. “Sure,” he admitted. “Everyone wants to be a hero.”

Both men could see Biggerson’s ‘Open’ sign glowing in the dawn. Dean pressed a little harder on the gas pedal.

“Is that your wish?”

They look at each other. “What?”

“To be able to hunt again,” Castiel said. “Is that what you desire?”

Snapping his eyes back to the road, Dean tightened his grip on the wheel. “No.” He slowed down to turn into the parking lot. 

Castiel nodded. “I see.”

“I don’t have any wishes, Cas.” Dean stops the car in the closest available spot to the building. He turned to look at the angel. “I’m perfectly happy where I am.”

All Castiel did was stare at him with those intense eyes, like he was reading his mind. _That’s right,_ Dean thought. _He can._

“What?” he asked.

Castiel frowned. “We both know that isn’t true.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean turned back to the wheel and took his keys out. He opened the car down and got out, saying; “Maybe the reason you can’t get back into Heaven is ‘cause your angel buddies are trying to prank you.”

“My brothers are not authorized to do that.” Castiel was careful not to damage the car as he got out. 

“You don’t need permission to do something.”

“I know.”

Both men stared at each other from over the hood of the Impala. Time seemed to have stopped, but life kept moving. Two birds flew directly overhead, coming to rest together on a cable wire. An older woman parked a couple of spots down from them. 

Dean turned away. “You want another burger on the house?” 

Castiel followed him inside. “Dean, we’ve talked about this,” he said. “I don’t eat.”

Dean laughed. “Right.”

Inside, Castiel sat himself in a booth where he could easily people-watch while he waited for the day to be over. All the angel ever seemed to do was wait. 

 

⛥⛥⛥⛥⛥ 

 

“Here.” 

Dean set a freshly made burger and fries in front of Castiel. The angel stared down at the plate for a few moments. Then his eyes lifted to connect with a set of green.

“Dean, I thought I made it clear-”

“You don’t eat,” he interrupted in a hushed voice. His eyes shot back and forth before he leaned in. “I know. But you’ve been sitting there for two and a half hours just staring out the window. If you don’t do something, it’s going to look suspicious.”

Castiel frowned. “I don’t have money to pay for this.”

“It’s on me.”

“Dean...”

“Just eat it.” 

Castiel watched Dean turn away from him to continue his job serving customers who actually had money. For a moment, all Castiel did was watch him take food to their respected consumers. Eventually Dean caught him staring. He gave him an odd look before disappearing into the kitchen. 

The angel looked down at his meal. Slowly, tentatively, he picked up the burger with both hands and brought it to his lips. While he knew he wouldn’t be able to taste it, the smell was rather appealing. You’d never think something so greasy and unhealthy would smell so savory. He took a bite.

Something unexpected happened within the first second his tongue hit the burger. Flavor exploded in his mouth. The juicy, almost salty taste of the meat and the heat of the melted cheese burned the roof of his mouth but the fresh and chilled lettuce made up for it. It was overwhelming.

Castiel dropped his burger, spitting the food back out immediately and getting to his feet. Heads turned around to stare at him as he got to his feet, creating distance between himself and the food. He looked around, making eye contact with just about all of them one at a time.

Dean rushed over. “Dude, what the hell?” he asked. When he noticed the angel’s upset expression, Dean touched his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“I could taste it.” His voice was quiet.

Dean furrowed his eyebrows. Noticing people were still staring, he offered the other customers a strained smile. “He’s okay.”

Slowly, most of them turned back to their plates. Some still watched in curiosity.

Dean lowered his voice, directing it back to Castiel. “What do you mean you could taste it?”

“It wasn’t just a molecular flavor, Dean.” He looked back to the burger. “It was all sorts of different tastes in one burst. Like an atomic bomb. That shouldn’t have happened.”

Dean took his hand back. “Alright, just calm down, okay? It probably doesn’t mean anything.”

Castiel stepped toward him, narrowing his eyes. Dean stepped back. 

“I have to go,” the angel said, pushing past Dean. He walked out the door.

Ignoring the few customers who were still paying attention, he jogged after him. “Cas!” He called to the retreating figure. The angel turned the corner to get behind the building. Dean rounded on him, only to stop himself.

Castiel was gone.

“Great.” 


	9. Chapter 9

It was dark when Dean pulled up to his house. He got out of the car, a little surprised to see a dull light barely shining out through the curtains. Frowning, he just stared at the window for a moment, unsure if he really wanted to deal with an angel who was probably sulking inside.

Then he remembered how upset Castiel was, how much it had bothered him, and Dean didn’t want his angel to feel that way. Ever.

Opening the door, he saw that the light was coming from the dining room.

“Hey,” he said, shutting the door behind him. He walked through the hallway, stopping by the table. “What happened?”

Castiel didn’t say anything, his eyes drilling holes into the wood.

After a moment Dean decided to sit down across from him. Castiel finally looked up.

“I’m turning human,” he said.

“Turning human?” Dean repeated. He furrowed his eyebrows. “How is that possible?”

“I don’t know. I’m becoming more human the longer I stay here. I don’t understand how this could happen.”

“Are you sure this is what’s going on? Maybe God’s just, I don’t know, giving you a run for your money.”

Castiel squinted. “Dean, I am very sure that my father isn’t giving me human senses just for kicks.”

“Maybe it’s a prank from one of your angel buddies.”

Looking back down, Castiel shook his head. “That’s not how it works.” Then, quite suddenly, he disappeared from the room.

Dean blinked a few times, making sure his eyes weren’t just playing tricks on him. “Cas?” he asked, hesitantly. There was no response.

He sat there, waiting for the reality of what had happened to settle in. He let his fist fall against the surface of the table, shaking his head. “Damn it,” he muttered. He looked around the room again, just to make sure that the angel didn’t just move to the living room to mope. He still hadn’t appeared.

Dean got to his feet, heading for the kitchen to grab a beer. “How often do I have to tell you it isn’t socially acceptable to just fly off in the middle of a conversation?” he asked the air. He popped the cap off and paused just short of drinking it. “Cas, come back down when you’re less freaked out about all this.” He took a swig.

 

⛥⛥⛥⛥⛥

 

It took about a week for Dean to become concerned. The days before, he figured that the angel was off somewhere taking a break from the stress of his job. It was just weird not having anyone around after having him there for so long.

But that day, when he got home from work and there was still no sign of Castiel, something clicked in his head. Something wasn’t quite right.

He missed him.

“Cas?” Dean warily asked. He waited a minute, standing alone at the foot of the stairs. “Cas, you gotta give me something here. A sign or whatever cliché angel crap you guys like to pull. Come on, man, just let me know you’re not…” He swallowed. “Just let me know you’re good.”

He stayed there, looking around to see if his angel would show up and actually explain something to him. Nothing happened. Dean frowned, thoughts forming in the back of his head about what Castiel could possibly be doing. Was he really just calming himself down? Time for angels probably went by a hell of a lot faster than time for humans. Dean’s lifespan was a blink of an eye to someone like Castiel, someone who’s been around for eons. 

But what really bothered him was the possibility of this being more than the angel needing space. What if Castiel wasn’t just calming himself down? What if he was in trouble?

Dean tried his damn hardest to push those thoughts to the back of his head. Castiel was fine, he could take care of himself. Dean was the one who needed to relax. He climbed the stairs, changed out of his work clothes, and tried to just live his life like he used to.

He caved in just a few hours later.

Awake, worried, and a little panicked by this point, Dean reached for his phone from the nightstand. The only thing on his mind was his angel when he dialed Sam’s number. Only after Sam answered had he realized his mistake.

“Dean?” Sam picked up on the fifth ring. He sounded tired. “You know time zones exist, right? It’s midnight here.”

“Right,” Dean said. “Sorry, yeah, right. Didn’t mean to wake ya, Sammy.” He hung up and set his phone next to the alarm clock.

Seconds later it started ringing. Dean waited it out. It kept ringing. Sam called him twice. Then three times. Dean picked up the fifth time.

“Go to bed, Sam.”

“Dean, what happened?” He sounded much more alert now.

“Nothing.”

“Dean.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Sammy. Just drop it. Everything’s fine.”

“Look,” he said, “you need to talk things out. Especially if you’re breaking down and calling someone for help.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I didn’t break down,” he insisted. “I’m the most stable I’ve ever been.”

“Dean, you haven’t been emotionally stable since the day you were born.”

“Shut up, bitch.”

“Jerk. Just tell me what happened.”

Dean took in a deep breath.. “It’s been days since Cas disappeared and I don’t know if he’s okay or not and he didn’t tell me why he left, and I know I should’ve gone to Bobby about all this but he’s already told me everything he knows which is how to kill him but I don’t want to kill Cas, Sam, I just want to know he’s doing okay.”

There was a pause from the other line. “Hey, calm down. You haven’t sounded this freaked out since I broke my arm and you had to take me to the hospital on your handle bars.”

That was a reality that hit Dean right in the face. This really was the first time he’d panicked about something so much since then. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“Okay,” Dean said. “You’re right.”

“So, tell me exactly what happened,” Sam said, his voice a lot more calming than Dean expected. “Starting with who Cas is.”

“Castiel,” Dean corrected. “His name’s actually Castiel.” It felt weird to say his full name like that. “He’s… an angel.”

“An angel?”

“Yeah. An angel.” Dean closed his eyes. “He came down from heaven to grant me some stupid wish that I made a long time ago.”

“You...” Sam paused, sounding more confused by the fact that Dean had done something like that than by the fact that angels actually existed. Dean wasn’t sure how he felt about that, either. “You made a wish?”

“I was sixteen!” Dean opened his eyes, glaring at the wall. “It was stupid and it doesn’t need to be fulfilled anymore. The point is that him and I were talking and he pulled a Houdini on me, right in the middle of our conversation. It’s been a week since I’ve seen him.”

“Wait, I have a couple of questions.”

Dean paused. “Cas could be in danger,” he said, “and you want to play Trivia?”

“Fine. Are you sure he didn’t just need to take care of… whatever angels need to take care of?”

“Yes, I’m sure! He would’ve just told me something was up – you don’t leave a guy hanging like that.”

“How long have you two – um – been associated?”

“I don’t know, maybe a month? Why?”

“Well, has he ever disappeared like that before?”

Dean was reluctant to respond. “Once...” He swallowed a lump in his throat. “But that was a different situation.”

“A different situation?” Sam repeated.

“Yes, Sam, a different situation.”

“What do you mean by a different situation?”

“I mean a situation that’s different from this one.” Dean rubbed his eyes. “Just find a way to get him back.”

Sam’s sigh came out loud and clear. “Yeah. I’ll call you back when I find something.”

“As fast as you can.”

“I’m sure he’s fine. He’s an angel.”

Dean hung up. He sat there, in his bed, not doing much of anything for about three hours. Seven days of being without Castiel was turning into eight days as the clock ticked. Thoughts kept circulating. Hypothetical situations of what could have happened to his angel kept nagging at him. He had a few beers, waiting for his brother to call back with something. Anything that might be able to help him. Maybe he just wasn’t talking to him properly? Was there a specific intro that he’d need to use? Was he supposed to start off by saying  _ ‘Angel of God, my Guardian...’  _ or something else equally stupid? He finished his third beer and decided to try one more time right there in the dining room where he’d last seen his angel.

Dean stared at the table, then closed his eyes. “Castiel,” he began. He stopped himself, completely forgetting what he’d had in mind to actually say. He licked his lips. “I’m worried here, okay? It’s weird without you.” He raised his head, opening one eye to see if he came back. No one was there. Dean opened both of his eyes. “Come on, man, I’m praying here.”

No response. 

When Sam finally called him back, it was a half past two in the morning. Dean fumbled with the phone, nearly pressing the ‘Decline’ button in the process. He willed himself to calm down and remember how to answer a damn call.

“What’d you find?” he asked.

“You’re going to want to write this down,” Sam said.

Dean scrambled to his feet, searching his house for a pen or pencil and something to write on. It took him longer than it should have to actually find these items. When he did, he went back to the table and uncapped the pen with his teeth.

“I’m ready,” he said over the cap.

 

⛥⛥⛥⛥⛥

 

The sun was just starting to peak over the horizon by the time he got everything in place. With the sigil painted on the concrete, the candles, and the dish full of herbs, it looked like a cult had raided his backyard. Dean could only hope his neighbors weren’t early risers who liked to stare out their windows in the mornings, because he doubted they’d be okay with what was happening.

With a deep breath, Dean swiped a match across the striker. He had to do it twice before the tiny piece of wood burst into flames. He tossed it into the bowl, slipping the rest of the matches into his pocket. Then he started chanting in what he hoped was proper Enochian. He was determined to get the incantation right. Castiel was going to appear and tell him what the hell happened.

He didn’t get that far.

In the middle of his chant, a loud growl erupted from behind his gate. He hadn’t heard it at first, but as it grew steadily louder and more fierce he had to stop his chanting halfway through. Whatever was on the other side of his gate didn’t sound too happy.

Anticipating the worst, Dean reached for his back pocket. He took his Demon-Killing knife out, pointing it to where the noise was coming from. Leaves crunched from a direction he hadn’t expected, and he turned to that side of the fence.

Suddenly a giant animal leaped over the top of the gate, nearly landing in the fire. It yelped, stepping away from the flames and giving Dean just enough time for his brain to catch up with what was happening. It growled again, charging at Dean claws first. The nail grazed his arm, destroying the sleeve of his shirt and tearing his skin. Dean side stepped to get at a better angle to push the knife into its wing. The creature recoiled into itself with another yelp.

Not wasting any time, Dean lunged forward, managing to tackle it to the ground. He slashed at it, trying to get the one thing he figured could actually damage it in any way; it’s wings. However, getting to its back was a little more difficult than it might sound. Every time Dean would try to roll it over or somehow cut at its back, the creature would dodge it with ease. Dean went to stab the knife into the wing just above its shoulder, the creature would stick its claw into his arm. Dean tried to wrestle it onto its back, it would use its wings to boost them both up and fling him off.

Eventually, after a long struggle, Dean managed to jab its left eye. The creature howled, stumbling backward. It raised both hands to cover its face. He used the opportunity to try and run up and grab its wing, but the creature anticipated this. It grabbed Dean by the wrist just as he approached and flung him through the screen door. He dropped his knife mid-flight.

His back hit the floor with a hollow thud. He gasped for air but couldn’t breathe. He tried to get to his feet, only to lose his balance and fall back down. The creature lowered itself to all fours and dashed at him. It aimed to jump on him. He rolled out of the way.

He got up, fumbling with the box of matches in his pocket. The creature ripped its claws out from where it had dug into the floors. Dean tried desperately to light the match. He cursed under his breath when he lost his chance.

The box of matches fell to the floor, Dean following soon after. The creature was on top of him now, trying to scratch his eyes out. He held onto its wrists, keeping them as far away as he could manage.

The claws got dangerously close to his face. It ripped its arms out from his grasp, bit his right hand off, and attacked. Dean screamed in pain until he couldn’t scream anymore. Until he was just a bloody mess on the floor, half-conscious and hanging by a thread.

The pain became too much. Both his mind and body completely shut down.

To think a little girl’s imaginary friend, out of all of the possibilities, had been what got Dean killed. 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Oxygen. Dean’s first awareness was his ability to breathe properly. The air around him was keeping him alive. He couldn’t remember what happened, but he knew he should be dead. Touch came next. Dean was laying comfortably on a mattress with his head propped up on a pillow. He took a deep breath and flexed his fingers, just to make sure both of his hands were still there. They were. The pain lingered only in his memory.

Sight. Dean opened his eyes, blinded for a second by the sunlight pouring into the room. He was in his own bedroom, safe and sound. Nothing seemed to be different, but he was still disoriented. He brought his hand up to his face to rub his eyes.

The memories came back all at once and Dean was on his feet in a matter of seconds. He stumbled, head throbbing. The room was still spinning when he regained his balance. His face felt hot. His stomach dipped downward and then curved back in on itself.

Something glistened from his nightstand. Looking over, he saw his Demon-Killing knife sitting idly beside the alarm clock. The time was 09:37.

“Good morning, Dean.”

His head snapped to the open door where Castiel stood, watching him carefully. Dean swallowed a lump in his throat, taking a step toward him.

“Cas?” His own voice startled him, it was so hoarse. He coughed into his elbow and cleared his throat. “Did you...”

“Yes, I healed you.”

“What happened to werebear?”

“That creature no longer exists.” Castiel paused. “I… Can’t stay here long.”

Dean crossed his arms. “That’s it, huh?” he asked. “You only came back because I was too stupid to take care of myself.”

Castiel squinted. “You are not stupid, Dean.”

“I prayed to you, Cas.”

“I heard.”

“Well, you never showed.” He uncrossed his arms. “You never told me – you could’ve said something. You could’ve told me you were okay.”

“I’m here now.”

Dean rolled his eyes, walking across the room until he was inches away from Castiel. He examined his face, searched those blue eyes. “Yeah,” he said. “I see that.”

Castiel furrowed his eyebrows, tilting his head. “You’re angry.”

Dean looked away.

“I don’t understand,” the angel said.

Dean raised his eyebrows, looking back at him. “Cas, you left in the middle of a conversation.”

“I had something I needed to attend to. You didn’t seem too worried.”

“I didn’t seem too worried?” Dean scoffed. “I  _ prayed _ for you to come back.”

Castiel stared at him. Dean stared right back. His guardian angel, the one person who knew him inside and out completely and fully, had to know the significance in that. Dean’s faith had long since dissolved into nothing.

“Of course I know that, Dean. I did not mean to leave so suddenly, and I was in no position to leave my whereabouts simply to put your mind at ease,” Castiel stated. “I was summoned back to Heaven.”

“What?”

“There’s been a lot of tension there lately. It was, as your people might say, an all hands on deck situation.”

“Situation?”

Castiel nodded.

“Right. You’re… You’re okay, right?”

The look on the angel’s face softened. “Yes, I am fine. But I am more concerned for you. You were close to dying.”

“I can’t believe a Tulpa almost killed me,” he muttered, walking past Castiel and down the stairs. In the living room, the screen he’d been thrown through the previous night was sill on the floor. It was completely torn up and useless. Suddenly tensing, Dean looked behind him. He relaxed when he saw that Castiel was standing there. “Why didn’t he die when we got rid of the source, anyway?” he asked, bending down to pick up the screen. Dean carelessly tossed the screen outside. He shut the sliding glass door and turned around.

Castiel was still there. “She must have told all of her friends about it,” he said. “They all manifested it into reality.”

“And you’re sure I’m not going to get attacked in my own backyard again?”

“Not by the creation of Lucille, no.” Castiel assured him. “But… I should inform you that the next time I leave I won’t be back for a while.”

Dean stared at him for a moment. He swallowed a lump in his throat. “Vacation?” he joked, forcing a smile.

Castiel frowned. “No.”

“Right.” Dean rubbed his palms against his jeans. “So what’s going on, then? With your situation.”

Castiel averted his gaze, rubbing the back of his neck. At first Dean thought that he was just going to disappear again without explaining anything to him. Then the angel slowly lifted his eyes to meet Dean’s. “Heaven is undergoing an internal conflict at the moment.” He lowered his arm back down. “I’m afraid this has been going on for much too long. I was summoned in to help assist my brothers. To put an end to this bloodshed.”

“You were drafted,” Dean stated.

“Simply put, yes.”

Dean licked his lips. “Okay,” he breathed out. “Okay. Go on, man. I don’t want to keep you from your duties.”

Castiel furrowed his eyebrows in concern. “You do come first, Dean. The moment you need me to return, I will do so as soon as I can.” He paused. “I apologize for not doing so before.”

Dean shook his head. “It’s fine. Get back to your war, soldier.”

Castiel frowned at him. “Dean...” He started, stepping into his personal space. Their eyes are leveled with each others’ and Dean licked his lips. “I am your guardian angel. And your friend.”

Dean flashed him a grin. “I know.” He pulled Castiel into a hug, and was pleasantly surprised to feel him hug back almost immediately. Taking a deep breath, Dean pulled away. He squeezed the angel’s shoulders. “Enough of these chick flick moments now, Cas.” He let his arms fall back to his sides.

“I will come back.”

“I know.”

“Goodbye, Dean.”

“Bye, Cas.”

And just like that, the angel was gone again. Dean leaned against the arm of his couch, staring at where Castiel had previously been.

⛥⛥⛥⛥⛥

 

Dean could feel his phone vibrating from the pocket of his jeans while he served a customer. He wasn’t in a rush to answer it, so he hadn’t even bothered to glance at the caller ID. After the other night, after Castiel left, after he’d finally fallen asleep, he dreamed. He dreamed of his guardian angel, standing beside him like a warrior. In that dream, they hunted together. They saved people, like Dean used to, like Castiel never quite got to before. Then Castiel – the real Castiel – showed up, spouting something about this not being his real wish. Something about how Dean wanted –  _ needed _ to move on and continue down a more domestic path. Dean didn’t get it, didn’t care enough to ask any questions. Right then, Castiel was asking him to do something and he’d be damned if he were going to turn him down. Dean figured that a slow and domestic life meant he couldn’t risk losing his job to answer a call while working.

He didn’t look at his phone until his next break. One missed call from Sammy, no texts and no voicemails. It probably wasn’t that important.

Dean called him back immediately.

“Dean,” Sam answered. “How did it go? Did you get this Castiel of yours back?”

Taking a deep breath, Dean looked up. The sky, without any clouds in sight, almost blinded him. He had to squint against it. “Yeah, he came back,” Dean said. He frowned upwards. It was weird, knowing that Castiel’s eyes were a more prominent shade of blue than the sky. “But then he left again.”

“Did you at least find out why he left in the first place?”

“There’s some sort of war going on upstairs.” Dean leveled his head, eyes shifting to the side. He watched a bird peck at the ground for crumbs. “Cas is a soldier. He’s apart of it.”

“A war?” Sam sounded interested. “What kind of war? Where’s God in all of this?”

“Sam, all I know is that Heaven’s caving in on itself.”

There was a pause. Dean knew that Sam wanted to ask more questions, figure out more about the whole problem and expand his knowledge in any way he could… But he didn’t. Instead, he cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

The bird flew away.

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Huh?”

“It’s just – it really seemed like...” Sam paused. “Like you, uh, liked this guy.”

“He’s my guardian angel, Sammy,” Dean emphasized.

“I don’t know, Dean...”

“What? Are you trying to tell me that if you met your guardian angel, you wouldn’t like him?”

“I don’t really have a lot of great childhood memories,” Sam said. “It kind of feels like my guardian angel was lazy.”

“There was a war going on,” Dean tried to explain.

“See, this is what I'm talking about. This isn’t like you. You’ve never been so willing to defend a whole race of monsters like that.”

“I’m not defending them. I know most angels are dicks, but Cas...” He licked his lips. “Cas is different. He’s a weird, dorky little guy.”

“This is what I’m talking about, Dean. You sound like a teenage girl.”

“Shut your piehole, Sammy. It’s not like you’re any better. Remember those poems you wrote to your crush back in middle school?” He cleared his throat and said in a high pitched voice; “Oh, how you hang the sun in the sky. Oh, how sorry I am that my creepy face makes you cry.”

“That’s not at all how it went, jerk.”

“Bitch.”

Sam sighed. “Will I ever be able to meet him?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Dean, I spent my entire night looking up angel rituals instead of studying or, I don’t know,  _ sleeping _ . The least you could do is introduce me to the guy.”

“You really want to meet him?”

“If he makes you this happy? Yeah.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It just… sounds like you really care about him. It’s a little off-putting.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Next time you’re in Kansas I’ll call him down here and we can all have a slumber party.”

“Great.”

“Paint each other’s nails and have a pillow fight.”

“Dean.”

“Gotta go Sammy, break’s over.” Dean stated.

The last thing he heard on the other line was the sound of Sam sighing before Dean ended the call.

 


	11. Chapter 11

He wasn’t sure when it happened. One day, Dean was going about his life like he had before the angel arrived, and then the next day he’s praying. He hadn’t meant to. Castiel’s name came out before he could stop himself and then everything he wanted to say in that moment just started playing follow the leader with the angel’s name.

Dr. Sexy was on when he said it. He remembered how invested Castiel had gotten with the show and decided that he needed to know what was going on in the most recent episode since he couldn’t watch it himself. Because, well, that’s what friends are for.

“Cas,” he had started. “Get this. Dr. Sexy just got dumped by that chick, Nurse Sultry.” He shook his head. “But it doesn’t really matter because he’s totally about to get it on with Dr. Steamy. Meanwhile, Nurse Blue-Eyes and Nurse Naughty are betting on who can diagnose the most patients within a month.”

Then Dean stopped himself. Saying those things out loud to someone who wasn’t physically there was probably one of the most pathetic things he’s done. He swallowed a lump in his throat, reaching over and fumbled with the remote a little before successfully shutting off the TV. He rubbed his hands over his face, internally groaning about how feminine was being.

That was over two months ago. Since then, Dean had made a habit out of praying to Castiel every other night. He never once asked the angel to come back. Castiel was fighting a war, he didn’t need the stress of being cooped up in a boring house wondering if his brothers were okay or not. All Dean could do was try to give the angel bits and pieces of the domestic life without fully distracting him.

Everything changed on a Thursday.

Dean was so exhausted from work that he was having a lot of trouble unlocking his front door. Realizing he was putting in the wrong key, he searched for the right one, only to accidentally jam another key that didn’t fit into the lock. He had, of course, forgotten to turn on his porch light that day. He couldn’t see which goddamn key was which.

“What the Hell,” he mumbled. “I use two out of five keys. What the hell are all these keys for?”

Finally able to get the damn door open, he stomped inside and slammed it shut. All he wanted to do was get out of his work clothes and sleep. As he passed the dining room, he tossed his keys to the table. They landed with a loud  _ ‘clink!’  _ and then slid all the way off the edge. He glared at them, deciding he was too tired to even bend down and pick them up.

Dean trudged up to his room. Entering the bedroom, he ripped his shirt off, turned on the light, and then froze.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean swallowed a lump in his throat. He licked his lips. He opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. He pressed his lips together. Castiel was looking at him with that confused expression he always had. Furrowed eyebrows, tilted head, squinted eyes. The familiarity of it all brought a grin to Dean’s lips. He walked across the room to where Castiel stood by his mattress and pulled him into a hug.

“It’s good to hear your voice, buddy,” he said, patting the angel on the back. Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean, which only made his smile grow.

They pulled away, and when their eyes met, Castiel smiled. “I missed you, too,” he said.

Dean couldn’t breathe for a moment. He was too concentrated on that smile to do anything but stare. It was the first time he ever witnessed Castiel make that expression. It was radiant. Dean wanted to kiss him.

Instead he licked his lips, forcing his eyes back up to meet Castiel’s. If he looked at that smile any longer he wasn’t sure he could hold himself back.

“What are you doing here?”

Castiel’s smile faltered. He was back to the serious, straight to business angel that Dean had always known. “Once my presence was no longer needed,” he said, “I was kicked back out. Heaven is more stable now. The war rages on, but my assistance is no longer required.”

Dean frowned. “So, what? They just throw you away after they’re done with you?”

“Not exactly. I have not yet finished my task on Earth. Had I completed my mission they would have allowed me the option to stay.”

Dean clenched his jaw. He had forgotten in all that time why Castiel had really stayed with him. Why he was his first priority. Why Castiel was in front of him. Dean was a job. As soon as he granted Dean his stupid wish, the angel was out of there. They’d never see each other again. Castiel didn’t want to see Dean again. He crossed his arms over his chest, nodding and refusing to look directly at the angel. 

“They had no right to kick you out, man,” he said. But he sounded strained, even to himself.

Castiel frowned. “You are not just a job, Dean.”

“Get outta my head, Cas.”

Castiel paused. “That’s another thing...” he said. Dean looked back at him. “I don’t possess the power to read minds anymore.”

“What? Then, how-”

“I know you, Dean.”

Dean swallowed a lump in his throat. He uncrossed his arms and went over to his closet, suddenly feeling too exposed. “So why can’t you stalk people’s thoughts anymore?” He grabbed a black T-shirt and slipped it on over his head.

“I am more human than I’ve ever been before.”

Frowning, Dean turned to look at him. Castiel had lowered himself down to sit on the mattress, his eyes downcast.

“Get up, Cas,” he said. “We’re going out.”

Looking up, Castiel gave him a questioning look. “Where are we going?”

“The bar. You look like you need a drink, and God knows I do.”

The angel – half angel? Man? – frowned. “I don’t see the appeal.”

“It’ll be fun. Maybe we’ll even pick up a couple of chicks or somethin’.” Dean grabbed a jacket and slipped it on. Looking back up, he saw that Castiel had his eyes narrowed at him. “Or guys, whatever you’re into man.”

It seemed impossible, but the ex-angel seemed to glare harder. “I thought we’ve been over this. I am utterly indifferent to sexual orientation.”

“Is that a yes?”

Castiel’s expression softened up. He sighed, rising to his feet. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”

  
  


⛥⛥⛥⛥⛥

 

Dean tapped his fingers against an empty beer bottle. Beside him, Castiel had been staring at his untouched drink for fifteen minutes.

“You gonna drink any of that?” Dean finally asked.

Castiel glanced to Dean. He moved his gaze to stare back at the bottle, his eyes following a water droplet as it slid down the side of the glass. It collected in a small puddle on the counter top. He said nothing.

With the bar nearly empty, it was way too quiet for Dean’s liking. “Alright,” he said, turning to look at Castiel. “Did you want to talk about it? You’ve been moping around like-like some sort of Dementor since we got here. I'm losing what little joy I have left just looking at you.”

“I don’t understand that reference.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “You look depressed, Cas.”

“My grace is dwindling. Anyone would feel like this.”

“It’s something more than that. You said you knew me, Cas? Well guess what. I know you, too.”

Castiel looked at him, staring into his eyes as if challenging him. Dean challenged right back. It wasn’t long until the ex-angel sighed, turning to his bottle. He brought it to his lips, taking a tentative sip. He scrunched his nose and set it back down.

“I tried getting answers,” he finally admitted. “I tried… communicating with God.” He took another drink. “I never got a response. I’m thinking perhaps you were right.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “I was right?”

“Maybe God really has died.”

Dean stared at him. “Dude,” he said. “This is  _ God _ we’re talking about. The ultimate ruler. That immortal douchebag that sits on some high throne and stares down at people. The creator of everything. You think he’s dead?”

Castiel looked at Dean. “Maybe he never existed in the first place.”

“Cas...” Dean swallowed a lump in his throat. “Are you losing faith?”

Castiel didn’t say anything. Instead he started chugging the beer, despite the slight burning sensation in his throat.

“That’s insane, man. You’re an angel.”

“No, Dean.” He coughed, setting his mostly finished drink back down. “I’m not. The part of me that’s still an angel… I won’t have that for long.”

Dean looked away. For a long time he just sat there in his own thoughts while Castiel finished his drink. Then, hesitantly, he said; “I don’t get it.”

“What?”

“Why don’t you just kill me and get it over with?”

Castiel watched him. “Dean, you can’t mean that.”

“I do.” He looked at the ex-angel. “Isn’t that what rogue angels do? Kill the worthless humans they’re in charge of? That’ll get you off the hook. It’s the easiest way to go.”

Squinting, Castiel tilted his head. “You are not worthless, Dean.”

Dean looked away. “All I’m saying is if I were you, I’d kill me.”

“No you wouldn’t.”

Stubbornly, Dean didn’t move. He just stared at the counter. This conversation was over in his mind. It wasn’t worth talking about.

Castiel didn’t have the same point of view. He reached out and put a hand on Dean’s shoulder. The man tensed under his touch but neither of them pulled away.

“Your soul has been batted around, toyed with, and darkened by experience. With all that you’ve been through, you’re still so pure.” He took his hand away to rest it back on the counter. “I trust you, Dean.”

Huffing out a humorless laugh, Dean shook his head. “You shouldn’t.”

Castiel glanced around the room. Satisfied by its emptiness, he produced a very fancy, very shiny knife seemingly out of nowhere. He took his hand, hiding it under the table, and gently closed Dean’s fingers around the handle.

Dean stared down at it, recognition flashing before his eyes, then looked back at Castiel. He felt like he was about to cry. “Cas...” his voice broke. “You can’t just give this to me.”

“I trust you.”

They stared at each other, Dean gripping the knife like a lifeline and Castiel looking at him with that soft smile, and through those blue eyes Dean realized all he needed to know. Slowly, carefully, he concealed the knife into the inside pocket of his coat. Then he called the bartender over, and they spent the next two hours sitting together like that.

Dean only figured out that it was a bad idea after having to help Castiel to the car. The ex-angel had abandoned beer after the second bottle and instead took on vodka shots. Dean didn’t stop him, figured he’d want to be out of it for the night. Instead he decided to act as the designated driver and only drank water from then on.

It took Castiel a lot of shots to actually get drunk. Apparently angels have an inhuman tolerance to that kind of thing. Castiel had said that if he hadn’t been part angel, he’d have less of a tolerance than Dean. Which is damn right, because Dean’s been working up his tolerance for years.

Halfway home, Castiel reached over and turned the volume down. “Dean.” His voice was a low rumble in the car.

“Yeah?”

“I remember when you were younger.” Castiel closed his eyes, letting his head fall backward.

Dean furrowed his eyebrows. “Sorry, come again?”

The ex-angel rolled his head to the side so that he could open his eyes and watch Dean. “I’ve been watching over you since the day you were born.”

Dean looked over at him. “That’s a topic I’ve been trying to avoid, buddy. Kinda weird.”

“It’s my job,” he said, lifting himself out of the slacked position. He turned to look more fully at him. “Not weird… work.”

Dean tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He clenched and unclenched his jaw. “Right.”

“It’s not my job anymore,” Castiel told him. “It’s more than that. I want to take care of you, Dean.” He moved to stare out the window. “I want to be by your side through everything. If there was one thing I could change about the way I’ve handled being your guardian angel… I’d actually protect you. Instead of abandoning you in your teenage years to follow orders from a God who doesn’t even exist.”

“I think you’ve had way too much to drink, Cas.”

“I’m serious, Dean.”

Staying silent, Dean continued down the road until they pulled up to his house. He parked on the curb and stepped out, walking around to the passenger side door. When he opened it, Castiel was just taking off his seat belt.

“C’mon,” Dean said, bending down to help Castiel stand. “Let’s get you inside.”

“I feel lightheaded,” he stated, letting Dean support the majority of his weight. “I think… I think I need sleep.” He frowned. “I’ve never slept before.”

“There’s a first time for everything.” Dean tried getting the door open, but it took a few tries and several curse words to do so. Once they were inside, the door shut and locked, making their way upstairs, Dean said; “You can sleep in my room tonight.”

Castiel furrowed his eyebrows. “Where will you sleep?” He shook his head, trying to pull away from Dean and almost falling down the stairs in the process. Dean pulled him back. Giving up, Castiel just rested his head on his shoulder. “This isn’t how this is supposed to go, Dean. I’m supposed to take care of you.”

“It’s okay, Cas.”

“It’s not okay.”

Dean rolled his eyes, nudging his bedroom door open the rest of his way with his foot. Dean sat the ex-angel down at the edge of his bed. Castiel fell onto his back, looking ready to pass out right then and there.

Dean shook his head. “You can’t sleep in that.” He reached over and slowly helped Castiel sit back up.

“Is there something about my attire that displeases you?”

“Most people change into pajamas or something when they go to sleep. It’s more comfortable like that.”

“I don’t own pajamas, Dean.”

“Strip down to your boxers. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

Castiel stared at him. “Are you suggesting...”

“No! No – Cas – God, no! You’ll just sleep better, okay?”

Castiel frowned, but complied and started shedding his layers. His fingers couldn’t quite grip the buttons of his dress shirt tight enough. Dean reached over, unbuttoning it for him and pulling it off.

“I’m not touching anywhere near your junk, so take your pants off by yourself,” Dean said, crossing his arms.

“There is nothing to be ashamed of,” the ex-angel stated, standing up. He stumbled, catching himself on Dean’s shoulders. “The human body isn’t anything to be ashamed of,” he said again. He looked down, unbuttoning his pants and yanking his fly down. He tried to take them off all the way but he still had his shoes on and they were too big for his pant legs to go over. Soon he lost his balance again and fell backwards onto the bed.

Dean rolled his eyes, squatting down to rid him of his shoes and socks. He pulled his pants off, dropping them to the floor with all of his other clothes.

“There,” he said, standing up. “You’ll be comfortable like that.”

Castiel watched him through half lidded eyes. “Thank you, Dean.”

Dean smiled. “Anytime, Cas.” He grabbed the chair from his desk and pulled it over to the bed. “Move to your side and try not to sleep on your back.”

Castiel nodded, switching his position so that he was facing Dean. “Where will you sleep?”

Dean grabbed a blanket from his closet and threw it over Castiel, deciding it would be too much work for the wasted ex-angel to get under the covers himself. He sat down on the chair, leaning against the backrest. “I’m gonna stay here and make sure you don’t puke on yourself. It’s gross, but it’s what humans do.”

“Thank you. I trust you will watch over me.” He closed his eyes, pulling the blanket closer to him. “You should keep talking,” he said. “I find your voice euphonious.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “What do you want me to do, Cas? Read you a bedtime story?”

“If it keeps you talking, yes.”

“Just go to sleep.”

Castiel smiled. “Good night, Dean.”


	12. Chapter 12

Sunlight seeped in through the window, creeping up on Dean the next morning. The beat of the light in his eyes was what initially woke him. He opened his eyes, only to have to squint in order to see clearly. He rubbed his face, then lifted his arms in a stretch. He looked over to Castiel.

The ex-angel was laying on his back, eyes open, staring up at the ceiling. Dean openly stared at him.

“Good morning, Dean.”

Startled, Dean looked away. “Uh, mornin’.” He spared a couple fleeting glances back. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Castiel stated. “It feels like there’s… this man trapped inside of my head, trying to beat his way through my skull.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, that happens.” Rising to his feet, Dean stretched out his back. Falling asleep on a chair was completely different than snuggling into the memory foam on his mattress. He relaxed his shoulders, heading for the door. “I’ll get you some water, Cas.”

Slowly, Castiel moved into a sitting position. “I’ll go with you.” He paused, waiting for the room to stop spinning, and then got to his feet to follow Dean down the stairs.

“How do pancakes sound for breakfast?”

“I’ve never had pancakes.”

Dean grinned, entering the kitchen. “Well we’re gonna fix that.” He took a glass out from the cupboard and poured some water into it.

Castiel frowned, lowering himself into the dining room chair. He watched in silence as Dean slid him the glass. “Here,” he said. “If you don’t like the taste of water then life’s gonna be a bitch for you, man.” Dean turned back to start on the pancakes without waiting for a response.

Castiel watched him. He took a drink of his water, set it down, and just stared. The ex-angel didn’t even bother with turning away when Dean caught his eye several times during the process. It was… awkward for Dean, though he’d come to find out that Castiel was basically the definition of awkward.

After setting the batter into the pan, Dean paused to look back at him. He frowned, opening his mouth to say something, and then immed iately shut it again.

Recognizing the concern in his eyes, Castiel tilted his head. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothin’. It’s just…” He swallowed a lump in his throat, turning back to the stove. “It’s good to have you back.”

“I feel the same way.” Castiel looked down at his lap, then back toward Dean’s figure. “Though I don’t believe that’s the only thing on your mind.”

Dean didn’t say anything. He flipped the pancake over and stood there, waiting for the damned thing to cook. Suddenly the whole process took a lot longer than he remembered.

“If you need to talk about it,” Castiel said, “I will listen to you.”

“I’m fine, Cas.”

“Dean...”

“Just… drop it. Okay?”

For a long moment, the entire house fell into a tense silence. It was still, quiet, and Dean was left to think about everything on his own. What was supposed to happen now? He couldn’t just continue as if Castiel wasn’t losing all of his Grace. They needed to find a damn wish of his and they had to do it fast before the process got worse. To think this was all his freaking fault. What a great friend he was.

“Dean.”

He tightened his grip on the spatula. “I said to drop it, Cas.”

“No, it’s not that. I...” Castiel paused. When he wouldn’t continue, Dean turned to look at him expectantly. Castiel was frowning. “I’m cold.”

Dean blinked, looking at the man in his dining room. He let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. Turning back to the pancakes, he said; “You can borrow some of my clothes for now. You’ve been wearing that damn suit everyday since I met you. We’ll have to wash it.”

“I used to use my grace to keep them clean...”

Dean tensed at how quiet Castiel was. He licked his lips, listening for the ex-angel to say something else. Nothing ever came. What felt like five minutes passed in tense silence before he heard the squeak of the old chair as Castiel took his weight off it. The creak of the stairs as he walked to the second story. The weight of Castiel walking around above him. He slammed the side of his fist against the countertop. How could he do something like this to Castiel? He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek and tried to concentrate on the pancakes. Now they seemed less like a sweet breakfast and more like a reminder of human needs.

He threw the pancakes onto two separate plates and set them down across from each other on the table. Dean poured them each a cup of ice water, placing them beside their respective plates. Deciding to wait for Castiel to come back down, he spent his time glaring at the tabletop.

The stairs creaked under Castiel’s weight. Dean schooled his expression and picked up his fork. He didn’t want to be too obviously perturbed by the everything that’s been happening lately. While waiting for Castiel to join him, he sipped at his water.

When the ex-angel appeared across the table, he was wearing blue jeans, a gray T-shirt, and he’d even pulled on the shoes he normally wore. The pants were too long for Castiel, the cuffs dragging on the floor behind him, and at that rate they were going to get completely torn up. He approached the table.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

Dean smiled at him, getting out of his chair and kneeling down. “It’s fine for now,” he said, not even bothering to look up at Castiel as he rolled the pant legs up. He gave his ankle a pat when he was done and stood up. “We’re seriously going to have to get you some new clothes.”

Castiel squinted.

“I don’t like it either,” Dean sat back down. “Two dudes don’t just go out shopping together. It’s boring. But it’s one of those boring things that you need to do to fit into society.”

“I can just keep wearing your clothes.”

“Nuh-uh, we’re not sharing clothes, especially not when you’re going to mess up every pair of pants I own.”

Castiel frowned and looked down at his feet. “If they’re cuffed like this, that won’t happen.”

“Yeah, but you look like a complete nerd like that.” He turned back to his plate. “Now sit down and eat your pancakes.”

“I simply don’t find it necessary to waste money when I can continue on like this,” said Castiel. He sat down nonetheless.

“It’s a privacy thing, Cas. Us humans need our space every once in a while, and with you stealing all my clothes it...” Dean stopped himself. “Shit!”

Castiel furrowed his eyebrows, watching Dean practically leap out of his chair. “Did I say something wrong?”

“I’m late for work,” Dean explained, already halfway up the stairs.

Instead of following him, Castiel simply sat there and poked at his pancakes. He could hear Dean upstairs, his loud footsteps frantically running around in his room, then to the bathroom, then back to his room. Castiel smiled to himself at the thought of Dean tripping over his own feet in such a hurry. He started eating his breakfast, which was an odd experience first thing in the morning to be tasting so many flavors he’d never experienced before.

When Dean came down the stairs again, he was gripping a jacket. “Hurry up,” he said.

Confused, Castiel abandoned his food in favor of the human. He paused at the edge of the table to grab the car keys that Dean had forgotten. He followed him to the door. “Dean,” he said.

“What?” he turned to look at him. Castiel held the keys up. “Shit, thanks.” He grabbed them, shoving the jacket into Castiel’s chest. “You’re gonna get cold,” Dean said. “I doubt you’ve ever experienced temperature drops, so put it on.”

Castiel did as he was told and walked out of the house with Dean.

They got into the car, Dean getting her started and driving off before Castiel had time to even shut the door.

“How’d you like the pancakes?” Dean asked suddenly only seconds after they’d left the house.

“They were interesting,” Castiel responded. “Very sweet, but… A little dry.”

Dean looked over at him. Castiel was smiling. “You son of a bitch!” Dean laughed, turning back to the road with a disbelieving shake of the head. The rest of the drive was spent in companionable silence. 


	13. Chapter 13

It took a couple of weeks for Castiel to get used to his senses, and even then he wasn’t fully on board with the whole human thing. Dean doubted he’d ever be okay with it,but Castiel seemed to be handling it with a calmness that Dean doubted he’d be able to have in such a devastating situation. The ex-angel started showering, brushing his teeth, eating, urinating – everything that comes with being human. He told Dean once, when he was just starting to get into the rhythm of humanity, that these activities were very tiresome. They take a lot out of the day. Dean responded by telling Cas he didn’t really have much to do other than hang out anyway.

Castiel sulked for a whole day after that one.

In the end, Castiel had stolen almost every article of clothing Dean had, including a handful of his boxers. He was starting to get sick of it.

“Dean,” Castiel said one morning, walking down the stairs. He was wearing a pair of scuffed jeans. No shirt, no shoes, no belt. The line of Dean’s underwear peaked up through the slouching pants. “You need to do laundry.”

“Again?” Dean scoffed. “It hasn’t even been a full week since the last time we washed ‘em!”

“Perhaps that’s because there’s two of us, and you keep insisting that I wear different outfits everyday.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean stood up from his spot on the couch. “That’s it, we’re going shopping.”

“What?”

“Shopping. I said we’d do it a long time ago and we never did.”

“That’s because we don’t need to.”

“Damn it, Cas, I’m sick of doing laundry every day!”

“You do laundry twice a week.”

“It’s still a lot of work, man. We’re going to buy you clothes and then I’m gonna teach you how to use the damn washing machine.” His eyes involuntarily glanced down to Castiel’s chest. “Now go put a shirt on and meet me in the car.”

Castiel frowned, but did as he was told.

Dean took him to the nearest clothing store in town.

“I don’t have all that much saved up,” he admitted when they stepped foot inside, “so I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t send all my money. I don’t think I could get away with a bank job.”

The footsteps behind him ceased, and Dean turned to see Castiel standing in the middle of the aisle. His eyebrows were furrowed, and he was giving him that concerned look he always seemed to have.

“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He walked over to Castiel and slid a hand between his shoulder blades, physically guiding hi out of the way of other customers. “A bank job,” he repeated. His hand falls to Castiel’s lower back as they walk deeper into the men’s section. “It means I’d have to rob a bank.”

Castiel frowned. “You wouldn’t do that, Dean.”

“It was a joke.”

The pair continued to weave their way through clothes racks and people. They passed a full body mirror, and Dean was suddenly away of the placement of his hand. He pulled his arm back, flexing his fingers until they stopped tingling. He cleared his throat and stuffed both of his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“How about we get you some new shoes first?”

They ended up spending five hours going from store to store just to find something that Castiel not only liked, but looked decent on him. Dean was able to steer him away from a pair of loafers, but couldn’t stop him from buying a black shirt with a blue winged cross on the back. The shirt was much better suited for an angsty teenager than an adult, but Castiel seemed to like it enough to disregard Dean’s opinion.

Once home, Dean took all of the bags from Castiel and headed for the stairs. “I’m gonna put these in the closet,” he called over his shoulder.

Aware that Castiel was following him, Dean walked into Sam’s old room and dumped everything onto the bed.

Castiel stood in the doorway, peering inside. “Dean… Are you letting me stay in this bedroom?”

“Course I am, Cas.” Dean pulled open the closet door and took out a few hangers. “Sam’s not coming back,” he said, bringing the hangers over to the bed. He picked up the shirts and started to put them over the hangers. “It might as well be used for something.”

With a deep breath, Castiel inched further into the room. He frowned, his eyes focusing back on Dean as he hung the clothes. “I can’t let you do this,” he said.

Dean furrowed his eyebrows and grabbed some more clothes. “What are you talking about?”

“This room is important to you.”

Dean huffed. “It’s just a room. Besides, Cas, seeing you sleep on the couch is physically painful. I can feel the stiff back.” When Castiel didn’t look convinced, Dean sighed. “Look,” he said, “you’re family now. You deserve your own bed.”

Castiel’s breathing hitched. His eyes widened as he stared at Dean. He blinked a few times and caught his breath. The previously shocked expression turned into that of puzzlement. “Family,” he repeated.

Dean shook his head. “Dude, don’t get all mushy on me.”

“You really consider me family?” 

Turning his back to Castiel, Dean half shrugged. He swallowed a lump in his throat and started putting the rest of the clothes away. “Yeah,” he said. His entire body felt tense, yelling at him to shut up and just leave it at that. But the look on Castiel’s face was just too hopeful. “I mean, sure, I didn’t know it at the time, but you’ve had my back since the day I was born.” He turned to face him, forcing a smile. “If that doesn’t scream family, then I don’t know what does.” 

Castiel watched him carefully.

Dean let out a breathy chuckle. “It is weird to think about how old you are, though.”

Those blue eyes only continued to stare at him in silence. The ex-angel didn’t even seem to be trying to formulate a coherent thought. 

Shaking his head, the forced smile turned genuine. Dean walked over to the door, stopping under the doorframe and turning to look back at Castiel. “You, uh, you know where everything is. So, just…” he cleared his throat. “Make yourself at home. I guess.”

For a moment, Dean didn’t think that he was going to respond. He was just about to turn around and head down the hall when finally, Castiel nodded. “That’s what I’ve been doing.” 

Dean grinned, body finally relaxing, and turned away from the room.

“Dean,” Castiel said. 

He stopped, hesitating only a second before turning back around. 

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, Cas.” 


	14. Chapter 14

The morning of Castiel’s first night in Sam’s old bedroom, Dean was in the kitchen cooking breakfast and whistling some forgotten tune. He flipped fried eggs with his spatula and then set the utensil aside. 

“Cas! Get up, will ya?” he called, opening the cupboard next to him and taking out two plates. He popped two pieces of bread into the toaster. He abandoned the food after making sure the eggs weren’t burning to stand by the foot of the stairs. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us!” He hurried back to the stove and flopped the eggs onto their respective plates. 

Castiel stumbled into the kitchen just as Dean had finished with their toast. 

Dean smiled at him. “Took you long enough,” he said, plate in each hand. 

The ex-angel  rolled his eyes.

Dean raised his eyebrows, then squeezed past the late riser in the tiny kitchen to get to

the dining table. He set their plates across from each other and went back into the kitchen to pour them their drinks.

“Dean,” Castiel started, voice rough with sleep. “I’ve come to the conclusion that seven

a.m. is too early to wake up.”

Dean snorted, arriving back at their table with a cup of orange juice and a mug full of coffee. He put the orange juice in front of Castiel’s food. “You’re such a freaking teenager, Cas. People get up this early all the time. Most people have to get up earlier even.” He bit into his breakfast. 

Frowning, Castiel followed Dean’s lead and started to eat. He winced, choked it down, and then asked; “Why?” 

“To get to work.” Dean picked up his mug and sipped the bitter substance. “Some people have to open stores, and depending on the store, have to get there before six.”

Castiel furrowed his eyebrows. “Is that why you always leave so early?”

“Biggerson’s is open 24/7,” Dean stated.

Eyebrows still furrowed, frown still in place, Castiel slowly nodded. He looked away from Dean and stared at the orange liquid in his glass. He carefully picked it up and hesitated a moment before actually drinking it. 

Castiel jerked the glass away from him and scrunched up his nose. 

Dean raised his eyebrows. “You, uh… You good?”

Castiel shook his head, setting the glass down. “It feels acidic on my tongue.” 

Dean grinned, setting his fork onto the plate. He reached over and grabbed Castiel’s cup. “Not an orange juice fan, huh?” He took it over to the sink and dumped it out, rinsing the cup until all of the juice was gone. This time, he filled the glass with water. “Here, we’ll stick with the basics.” 

Castiel took the water from him. “Dean, what is it that we’re doing today? I already have all the clothes I need.”

Dean got comfortable in his seat again. “We,” he said, pointing his fork at Castiel, “are going to socialize.” He started eating again. 

“Socialize?”

“Yeah, man. Humans are very sociable creatures,” Dean explained. “We go crazy if we’re isolated too long. It’s why solitary confinement is so psychologically devastating.”

Castiel still looked unsure. “I don’t think this is very wise. My ‘people skills’ are rusty,” he said, actually using air quotes. 

Dean smiled at him. “That’s exactly why we’re doing this.” 

Frowning, Castiel looked down at his food. The two continued to eat in silence after that.  

 

⛥⛥⛥⛥⛥ 

 

The sun enveloped them in heat the second they stepped out of the car. They stood in front of a person’s house, their driveway full of various items and people wandering around. Castiel waited for Dean to get around the car and approach him before walking onto this stranger’s property. 

“Why are we invading someone else’s privacy?” Castiel asked.

“Because they invited us,” Dean stated. “We’re at a yard sale. People host these things on the weekends to get rid of any shit they don’t want.”

Castiel frowned.

“Hey, sometimes there are some pretty cool stuff at these things,” said Dean. He surveyed the tables until his eyes landed on a pile of movies. “Like that!” He walked over to them and grinned, looking through the titles. He snatched up a few movies, showing their covers to Castiel.

The ex-angel stared at them. ‘In The Line of Fire,’ ‘Space Cowboys,’ ‘The Beguiled,’ ‘Tightrope,’ and ‘Two Mules For Sister Sara’ had been shoved in his face. Slowly, he reached up and took the movies from Dean.

The next thing that was handed to him was Dean’s wallet. “Here,” Dean said, “go pay for these over there.” He nodded his head in the direction of a man sitting under the shade of a tarp. 

“You’re not coming with me?”

“Nope.”

Castiel’s frown deepened.

“C’mon, Cas. We’re taking baby steps here. All you gotta do is say ‘I’d like these’ and hand him the cash. It’s easy.”

Looking between the movies and the man, Castiel didn’t show any signs of excitement. Even so, he nodded and said, “Okay.”

Dean grinned. “Atta boy.” He gave Castiel an encouraging pat on the back. “You get ‘em, tiger.”

Eyebrows drawn inward, head tilted, and eyes narrowed, Castiel stared at Dean for a moment. Then, straightening his posture, he turned and walked over to the man.

Dean followed from a distance, pretending to look interested in a lamp that was for sale. It was long, skinny, and silver. There was a sticky note attached to it, clearly written by a young child, that labeled the lamp as a ‘light stick.’ 

“I’d, I’d like these.” He displayed the movies to him and then held out the wallet. “Please.”

The guy raised his eyebrows. An easy smile slid across his face. “Clint Eastwood fan?” He asked.

“Who?”

Laughing, the man on the chair shook his head. “Nothing, man, that’ll be fifteen.”

“I only have one wallet.”

“Uh… Fifteen dollars.”

Castiel looked to Dean for help, who was now rummaging through a box of cassette tapes. He glanced up and they made eye contact. Dean rolled his eyes and set the tapes back down. 

“There you are!” he said, putting a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “Jeez, you were taking way too long.” He looked over at the guy and smiled. “How much did you say these were?”

“Fifteen dollars,” the guy said again. 

Dean nodded and took his wallet back, taking out a ten and a five and handing it over. He forced a smile. “Have a good one, man.”

“Uh, yeah, you too.”

Slinging an arm around Castiel, Dean forcibly guided him back to the car. 

Once they were inside the safety of Baby, Castiel turned to Dean. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Well, for starters, the guy wanted fifteen dollars, not fifteen wallets.”

“Oh.”

“Yard sales aren’t the best places for conversations anyway.” Dean drummed his fingers along the steering wheel. “I don’t think I can really afford to go out anywhere else,” he mumbled, more to himself than to Castiel. “I was thinking f going to a strip club or a bar again, but I already spent so much yesterday, too.”

“Dean, do not ever feel like you need to spend money on my behalf.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Cas, come on, you’re family. In a really weird, kind of creepy sort of way. And family spoils each other.” At least, Dean’s vision of what a real family looked like did.

Castiel didn’t respond. Instead, he turned to stare out the window with a very small smile on his face. 

  
  


⛥⛥⛥⛥⛥

 

The boys got through three Clint Eastwood movies and four bags of popcorn when they fnally decided it was time to turn in for the night. Dean was fast asleep, but Castiel had laid in Sam’s old bed staring at the ceiling for about two hours before realizing he wasn’t going to sleep.

The clock told him it was two in the morning. He was as wide awake as he would have been at two in the afternoon. He didn’t seem to be bothered by this transformation, not when he was distracted by Dean. Dean’s earthy eyes. Dean’s barely there freckles. Dean’s perfect hair. Turning human was okay, because he had Dean. 

In the dark hours of the night, though, when he had nothing much else to think about except for this new feeling or mortality, those moments were when it really got to him. 

Slowly, he set up from the bed and stared down at his lap. It was too dark to see much other than an outline of his legs and his hands folded on top of them. Eventually he pushed the covers away and stood. Suddenly much more energized, he walked at a fast pace across the hall to Dean’s room. 

Pushing the door open, he called Dean’s name and the man awoke instantly. 

“Dean,” Castiel said. “I, I’m really turning human.”

Dean rubbed the sleep from his eyes, not fully registering what Castiel had said to him. “What?” He furrowed his eyebrows. “Dude, it’s a little bit late to be having this humanity crisis, don’t you think? You’ve been turning human for a while now.”

“This ‘humanity crisis’ has been the subject of my thoughts every night, and as far as I’m aware, humans tend to bottle up their emotions until they finally overflow and everything is forced out. I’m… ‘overflowing.’” 

Dean stared at him. “Now you just sound weird.”

“Dean. We need to grant your wish. If not now, then soon.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t have a wish.”

Castiel dragged his hands down his face, something he’d seen Dean do in the past. “If i don’t grant your wish, I’ve failed my duty as a guardian angel. If I fail this job, I lose my rights as an angel,” he told him. “I’ll become human. I’ll lose my Grace. I’ll fall. There’s no coming back from a fall.”

Dean scowled. “So this is all just a job to you. Damn it, Cas, I thought you actually cared about me!” He shoved the covers away and got out of bed. “I thought we were family.”

Taking a deep breath, Castiel tried to calm himself down. “Dean,” he said through clenched teeth. “We are family and I do care about you. But have you ever stopped to think about what I’ve been going through? All of these new experiences, you don’t just get over something like this.”

“You think I don’t feel like shit? For what I’ve done to you? What I’ve put Sam through? I’ve put him through years of crap-”

“This isn’t about Sam!” Castiel shouted. “Sam’s getting his life back together. Sam knows you’re not the reason for what’s happened in his life and he certainly doesn’t resent you for it. What you’re doing right now is making up excuses for you to hate yourself.”

“Yeah, well, you hate me too, don’t you?” Dean retorted. He turned around and opened the drawer by his bedside table. Reaching in, he retrieved the angel blade Castiel had given him. “Take this thing back,” he said, handing it over. “If you’re so upset about me not having a wish, just get it over with.”

Castiel stared at it. Then, hesitantly, he walked closer to Dean and took it from his hands, careful to not brush their fingers together. He shook his head. “I don’t get it,” he said. “How can one person be so selfless and selfish at the same time?” His hold on the angel blade tightened and then lifted his gaze to look at Dean. “I’m not going to kill you. You might think you’re worthless, but I know you aren’t.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “I’ve been an angel for millenia. I am begging you to search for something you desperately need. Anything as desirable as the safety of Sam.”

“You know, you keep telling me the same thing over and over. Look for something I want. And I don’t know how you don’t understand this simple statement, but I can’t think of anything as important as my baby brother. Not a goddamn thing.” He narrowed his eyes. “So don’t you go blaming me for the fact that you can’t do your goddamn job.”

“My job requires your cooperation.”

“Damn, Cas!” He turned around and smacked the lamp off of his desk. It flew across the room and crashed into the wall. “I wasn’t the one who was eleven years late! You think I’m not just as pissed off as you are?” He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “You think I want you to lose everything you’ve ever lived for?”

Silence.

When Dean turned back around, Castiel was nowhere in sight. The room was quiet, save for the blood rushing in Dean’s ears. He rolled his eyes. “Fine. You wanna mojo your way out of this one, be my guest.” 


	15. Chapter 15

Four days passed by. The angel didn’t returned home, but it wasn’t like Dean was waiting for him or anything. Except that he was. 

Dean had gotten so used to having Castiel around that it still felt weird without him. The angel used to follow him to work for god’s sale. He watched Dr. Sexy, M.D. with him, and he fucking enjoyed it. Unlike Sam, who had always made fun of Dean for liking such a feminine tv show. 

So, okay, maybe Dean was lonely. But his anger overpowered that feeling. 

The worst part of not having Castiel there with him, he concluded, had to be eating alone. It was too quiet without the ex-angel commenting on the exact taste of the food, instead of it just tasting molecular and acidic. He liked it when Castiel enjoyed the food that Dean made, because Sam was so used to it that he didn’t appreciate Dean’s cooking efforts. Portion sizes were a lot more difficult for Dean now that he only had to feed himself. 

After another three days of Dean moping around, stubbornly pretending Castiel never existed in the first place, he finally gave in. 

It was a dark night, the moon barely peeking through gaps in the clouds. Dean had seated himself on one of the chairs in his backyard, beer in hand, staring up at the sky. 

He took a huge gulp of beer and prepared himself for what he had to say. 

“Hey, Cas…” he started out. He could see his breath, floating upward and then disappearing into the night. “I don’t know if you can even hear me. You’ve somehow got enough juice in there to fly off, so tapping into your angel radio is kind of just a shot in the dark.” Stopping himself before he spilled everything he was thinking, Dean downed another few swigs. “I, uh… I know I’m the reason everything’s falling to shit. I know you’re probably still mad at me. I know that… somehow, for some reason, I’m more than just a job to you. I know that you were right. About me being selfish. But I also know-” he stopped, swallowed another large gulp, and took a deep breath. “I know that just ‘cause you love someone, doesn’t mean you should try and guilt trip them into staying with you. But,  damn it, Cas…” He looked down at his feet. “You’re family. I might be screwing up your life for my own selfish reasons, but I need you.”

He set the bottle onto the small table next to him and leaned forward. Elbows on knees, eyes glancing from star to star, he sat there for a full minute. Nobody came. He hung his head and sighed. “Don’t make me say it, man,” he muttered.

More silence. 

Dean glanced back up to the sky. “You’re gonna make me say it, aren’t you?” 

A cricket could clearly be heard from one of the bushes. 

“Fine.” He licked his lips, swallowed a lump in his throat, and then closed his eyes. “Being with you… That’s my wish.” He scrunched up his nose, feeling disgusted with himself. “Happy now?”

There was a distinct ruffle of feathers coming from in front of him. His eyes flew open and he’d never jumped out of a chair so fast. 

Castiel stood, eyes narrowed, staring at him.

Dean smiled. “Damn, am I glad your radio’s still tuned in.”

“Dean, I would advise that you think carefully before you restate your wish.”

“Come on, man, I really have to say it again?”

Castiel nodded. 

“Cas, I need you. And if you’re willing to stay, then I want you to say…” he trailed off. “But if you’d rather be living it up in paradise, I don’t blame you. I’ll think of another wish.”

With a confidence Dean only remembered ever seeing on Castiel when he was fighting, the ex-angel walked up to him and wrapped his arms around his neck. He pulled him down into a kiss, and Dean was brought back to the first time they’d been so close together. He didn’t want to think of a time where he’d fucked everything up.

Determined not to make this a rerun of last time, Dean pressed closer to him. He could feel a surge of comfort and warmth fill the emptiness he hadn’t known was there in the first place. 

The kiss ended too quickly. 

“So,” Dean said. “If you can’t use your grace to clean yourself up, how could you still teleport and shit?”

Castiel looked down, but didn’t move from where he was still holding onto the man. “I needed to harness my grace,” he explained. “Using it all up would have resulted in a much faster fall. I… wanted to stay an angel for as long as I could.”

“I’m sorry-”

“I’m staying.”

Dean blinked. “What?”

Castiel looked up at him. “I’m no longer an angel. I doubt now that my fall had anything to do with you not having a wish. I’m almost certain that angels have until the day their charge dies to fulfil their duties. I fell from grace because I fell for you. Subconsciously I must have been pushing my celestial waves farther away from me, to give me a better chance at a normal life.” He glanced to the side. “Well, as normal as it could be, considering what you and I have been through, together and otherwise.”

“You’re giving up your angelic status for me?” Dean said. “Cas, you’ve been an angel for an amount of time I can’t even begin to wrap my head around and you’re giving it all up for one person?”

“You’re worth more than what heaven has to offer.”

Dean didn’t believe him, but he decided that it would have ended badly if he’d said anything against that statement. Instead, he leaned in for another, shorter kiss. “You really want to stay here? With me?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll never get your powers back.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

“And you’re not getting another chick-flick moment out of me for at least another five years.”

Castiel smiled. “I love you, too.” 


	16. Epilogue

Outside, the trees had started to shed orange and red leaves, piling up in Dean and Castiel’s small backyard. The weather was chilly, not just at night, but during the day, too.

In contrast to the harsh weather, the house was warm and the turkey in the oven could be smelled from every room.

Dean stood in front of the stove, whistling while stirring a pot of gravy. The doorbell rang, and he stopped his whistling to shout; “Cas, go get the door! It’s probably Sammy!”

Castiel appeared in the kitchen wearing a new black suit. “How do I look?” he asked. The tie around his neck was the same one he’d worn when him and Dean had first officially met, and was even crooked in the same quirky way it was back then, too.

Dean smiled. He knew that Sam was probably going to find the tie to be a little bit unprofessional, but he couldn’t bring himself to fix it. “Like an angel.”

That earned him a glare.

Laughing, Dean turned back to the gravy. “Hurry up, Sam’s gettin’ impatient.”

“Dean, I know for a fact that he is much more patient than you,” Castiel stated.

Dean rolled his eyes and poured the gravy into a gravy boat. He turned around and brought it to the table, just in time to see his brother and his boyfriend looking at each other awkwardly from different sides of the doorframe.

“What’s up, Sammy?” Dean called.

Sam’s eyes look between Dean and Castiel before finally looking back to Dean. “Uh, hey.” A blonde woman with a sweet smile stood close to him.

Dean wiped his hands on his jeans and walked through the dining room toward the front door. “Hi,” he said to the woman. “I’m Dean, Sam’s older brother.” He held out his hand.

“Jessica Moore.” She shook his hand. “Sam’s older girlfriend.”

“By a year,” Sam mumbled.

Dean raised his eyebrows. “She’s a keeper.” He accompanied that statement with a wink in Sam’s direction. “So, you guys have already met Cas?”

“Yeah,” Sam said slowly.

Dean rolled his eyes.

A car pulled up to the curb, parking right behind Sam’s. Two women got out and waved over at them. Dean smiled and waved back.

“Sam, go greet them. I gotta take the turkey out.”

“Right,” Sam said. He looked at his girlfriend. “Jess, you can go inside and I’ll be right there.” He turned around and hurried over to the woman, hugging both of them.

Jessica followed Dean and Castiel inside.

“So,” Dean said when they entered the kitchen. “How’d you meet Sam?”

“Mutual friend,” she told him. “We’ve been dating for almost a year now. He didn’t tell you about me?”

Dean shrugged, opening the oven door. He grabbed a couple of rags and used them to protect his hands as he took out their main dish. “Sammy’s a pretty private kid. I’ve never even met any of his past girlfriends.”

Jessica smiled, her face turning a light shade of pink.

“Where the hell is my seat?” came a gruff voice from behind them. “You’ve got six seats, boy. There’re seven people here.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Sit on the floor then!” he went over and displayed the turkey in the middle of the table.

“How about I dump you out of yours?” the man responded.

“I’ll get you another chair, Bobby,” said Sam. He moved past them and went into the garage.

“Hi,” Jo said to Jessica. She sat down next to her. “I don’t remember you being part of the family.”

“I’m Jessica, Sam’s girlfriend.”

“Well, the more the merrier,” Ellen said, sitting down across from Jo. “I’m Ellen. That’s my daughter, Jo.”

“It’s nice to meet all of you,” Jessica said.

Sam came back shortly after with a plastic chair. He unfolded it and set it next to where Castiel had chosen to sit. “Here you go.” He took a seat on the other side of Jessica.

“Thanks, boy,” Bobby said, sitting down. He starting piling food onto his place, and then paused to look at the man next to him. “Who’re you?”

“My name is Castiel.”

Bobby raised his eyebrows. “This is-”

“Yes,” Dean said.

“Why is he still here?”

“Long story.”

Bobby tried to wipe the shock from his face. “Well, Cas, you can call me Bobby. Nice to.. Finally meet you, I guess.”

Castiel nodded. “You, too.”

By that point everyone had settled into their seats and were starting to dig into their food.

Jessica leaned in to Sam. “Do we not say grace?” she whispered.

Sam shook his head. “We’re not very religious,” he said, voice low. “Sorry.”

Jessica shook her head, moving back to sit in her seat properly. “It’s not a big deal.” She smiled and nudged him. “But my parents say grace. Hope you’re prepared for next year.”

Somebody knocked on the door.

“Oh, now who the hell is that?” Bobby asked.

“This family just keeps getting bigger,” Jo mumbled. She smiled at her food.

Dean pushed his chair back and stood up, looking longingly at his food for a moment before going to answer the door. On the other side stood a woman with short brown hair and an expectant smile.

“Jody?” Dean smiled and went in for a hug. ‘What’re you doing here?”

“Hey, Dean.” They pulled away and she glanced over his shoulder to look inside. “Bobby invited me.”

Dean turned to where everyone was sitting. “Bobby, you got somethin’ you wanted to tell us?”

Bobby choked on his food. Regaining control of himself, he wiped at his mouth and leaned back in the chair to look at them. “Jody?”

Smiling, Jody turned back to Dean. “Well, you gonna invite me in?”

“Right, come on in.” He stepped aside to let her in and she made a beeline for the table.

“Scoot over, boy,” Bobby said to Castiel.

Jody rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to move.”

Bobby looked at Castiel and, feeling pressured, he moved to sit in the chair that was previously occupied by Dean.

“Where am I supposed to sit?” Dean asked, watching Jody sit down and handing Castiel his plate of food.

Castiel took Dean’s plate from it’s resting spot and replaced it with his own, then handed Dean’s food to him.

“The floor,” Bobby said.

Dean rolled his eyes and instructed Jo to move over toward the corner. Annoyed, Jo complied. He set his plate down on the now empty surface.”I’ll be right back,” he grumbled.

In the garage Dean was mildly surprised to actually find another folding chair. He dusted the cobwebs off and shook it a few times for good measure before even thinking about bringing it into the house. Finally satisfied, he brought the chair inside and placed it between Castiel and Jo. He got an extra plate for Jody and handed it to her before sitting down.

“Castiel is a strange name,” Jo stated. “Where are you from?”

“Actually,” Jessica piped in. “He was probably named after the angel Cassiel.”

Castiel stiffened where he sat.“Well,” he started.

“Yeah, his parents were pretty religious,” Sam stated.

Jessica looked at him. “I thought this was the first time you two had met?”

“It is,” he said. “But Dean’s told me a lot about him.”

“How’d you boys meet?” Jody asked.

“It’s a little hard to explain,” Dean said. “I’ll tell it to you some other time.”

Jody gave him a weird look and Bobby leaned in to whisper something to her. Her eyes darted to Jessica and an understanding look crossed over her face. “Right,” she said. “Well, can’t wait to hear that story.”

Castiel looked at all of them awkwardly. Jo was staring at him intently and Jessica now seemed suspicious.

Dean reached over and placed a hand on his knee under the table. Castiel relaxed into the touch, gently placing his hand on top of Dean’s. He intertwined their fingers from behind.

Looking at all of them sitting together at that dinner table, spending Thanksgiving as a family, Dean knew there was going to be more obstacles that he would have to go through. Helping Sam with Jess when she finds out the truth about monsters, telling Jody, Ellen and Jo the truth about Castiel, and the fact that he would never be satisfied living a normal life were only to name a few. But, as he looked at his family eating together without worry, as he felt the warmth of Castiel’s palm on top of his hand, it was the first time Dean remembered ever feeling so content with his life.

 


End file.
